Adaptation
by Ink Ribbon
Summary: They were all trying to make it in the apocalypse, trying to see if there was still more than just surviving. But Rome wasn't built in a day - A what if story in which Daryl Dixon didn't see the car with the white cross at the end of S05E02; starts with Beth and Daryl, in later chapters; Rick and Amanda Shepherd from Grady Memorial becomes the main ship.
1. Chapter 1

**New edit: Just put up a poll on my profile. If you're interested which story you'd like me to write after A Better World, please vote! Thanks.**

_Hello. This story will answer, hopefully, what Beth and Daryl would have done if Daryl didn't see the car with the white cross again by chance at the end of second episode of Season 5. _

_Edited as 01/09/2020-I think it's safe to say now that this story has two parts; the first part is until Chapter 12, dealing how Beth gets out of Grady, and the rest is the second part, my take for the rest of the Season 5, with pairings and characters POVs starting bouncing off between Beth/Daryl and Rick/Amanda Shepherd, the police officer from the hospital. __Since she was such a minor character, I took liberties building her. Though, she's mainly based on the little interaction she got with Rick __at Coda __when he told her "you're a damn good liar" after she started spinning tales not to get things blow out of proportion._

_Enjoy._

* * *

I.

_The night was so beautiful it almost made her cry, but instead she laughed, a silly, breathless little laugh, twirling her hand up in the air, her fingers dancing across the black canvas glinting with stars and moonlight._

_Somewhere ahead them, her eyes still could catch the fiery hue in the horizon, burning away all pain and loss in their pasts. There were no moans or snarls she could hear disturbing the silence stretching between them but she knew they weren't far away, drawn to the fire to burn themselves like moths to flame. She didn't care. There were too much star shine and moonlight to care, and she'd finished the last jar of the moonshine before she dropped on the cold foliage of the woods, properly drunk. She felt elevated, one hand up in the air, the other clutching deep in the earth, her nails digging in the muddy soil. I am alive… she felt it with such a clarity, feeling the whole world at her fingertips dug in the earth, staring at the shining stars and moonlight. Another laugh erupted out of her, enchanted and happy._

"_We gotta move—walkers—" Daryl's rough drawl echoed like a night creature from her left side, but she shook her head._

"_Can't—" She laughed again breathless, then remembering, twisting aside, she caught his hand, "I'm p-paralyzed with happiness," she intoned dramatically, looking at him with wide opened eyes._

_She couldn't read from his expression if he could understand her, but probably not because he shook his head, pulling his hand back, "You're crazy drunk."_

_Another laugh, and she raised her hand in the air again, moving her fingers, "I'm crazy alive—" she breathed out, her voice soft and musical like she was singing, and she thought she would sing—a magical tune about moonlight and dancing stars, "Alive, and drunk on moonlight," she whispered out._

"_Moonshine," he corrected her._

_She shook her head, trying to catch a star, "Moonlight."_

"_Whatever." He pushed up at his feet, and grabbing her arm, he pulled her up, too. "We gotta go."_

_Beth looked at him, swaying at her feet, trying to find her balance. "You gotta teach me," she remarked instead, steadying herself clutching his upper arm, "How to shoot, how to hunt." She stopped, her eyes firmly at his and announced, "I want to live."_

_I want to live…_ The words cut through her mind like a blaze, faltering her steps. She raised her head and looked at Dr. Edwards as the man stood at the other side of corridor, talking to one of the wards. The cold fire inside her was still there, the fire that made her follow him down the corridor, her hand fisted on the scissors, murderous thoughts raging inside her like a storm.

_A sure way to live, girl,_ Daryl's voice snickered over the storm in her mind, _sure as hell a good way to survive._

She had to think. This wasn't survival, this was… anger, revenge, and even though she felt like the doctor deserved it, it couldn't solve the problem. Killing the doctor wasn't the solution, but only would have made her feel better. If her father had seen her now, he would've been ashamed, ashamed of her, ashamed of what she had become, what she had let these people turn her into. She could not let that happen. This simply wasn't her. They could be all survival of the fittest, but that wasn't Beth. Besides, they got it all wrong.

"_Survival isn't about who's the strongest, but who is the most adapted to the environment,"_ her Biology teacher had once said while he taught them of the concept of natural selection. Biology had never been her favorite in the school, and she was listening with only half an ear but a few words had stuck with her. She'd then thought about how the high school was like a savannah, too, all people falling in a category; cheerleaders, jocks, nerds, hipsters, cool kids, stoners, all trying to find their places to fit in. They all had a place. Later she'd thought about it in the prison as well, realizing that it wasn't still so different than in the school, not in deep down, they were still trying to fit even when the whole world turned to a horror story; they still had a part, a job to do. That was how she survived. She'd found her part, taking care of the little ones and she stuck to it, until to the very end. It still pained her to remember that she couldn't find Judith before she left the prison with Daryl.

Remembering him brought further memories, the times he'd taught her hunting and tracking. _"It' about being a part of the woods, seeing the whole picture," _he'd instructed with that rough, gruff drawl as they slowly traipsed through the woods with light feet, then stopped for a second, then demanded, _"Look around, and tell me what you see."_

_Look around and tell me what you see._

She looked around, and saw.

The arrangement at Grady was based on the doctor. He'd made the first deal, he was the foundation. If Beth had taken him out, surely the whole ordeal could have collapsed, but upon them. No. If she hurt Dr. Edwards, Beth was a dead girl, simple as that. Dawn would have never let her take another breath after that. Nope. Dying still didn't sit with her well, not yet. She didn't want to die. Besides, she still hoped to escape. She had to find Daryl, and Judith, and the rest of her family. They had to be alive, they were. Daryl was alive, too. She didn't believe what they'd told her, that her being alone on the road. Daryl must have escaped from the funeral home, he couldn't die. He was going to be the last man standing. But he must have been looking for her, feeling awfully guilty for letting her got snatched through his fingers. She could even imagine the way he would feel, the sag in his shoulders, as if guilt wearing him down toward the earth as he felt he failed once again to protect someone he cared. This wasn't his fault and she needed to tell him that, made him understand. She'd told him that they couldn't depend on anyone for anything, but hell. Sometimes exceptions had to be made.

She really needed to get out of here, fast.

Again, she looked around. The clean corridors were eerily lit, casting strange shadows at the corners with low energy consumption rule, the smell of antiseptics heavy in the air, catching at the throat. The hospital had a routine, though, a sort of order that they kept going on daily, something that Dawn frantically insisted. Everything must be clean, well kept, well-ordained. She'd figured out the funeral home was one of their hide out place, that belonged to once the community that also ran Grady Memorial back in the days, and the state of the safe house told Berth now clearly the extent of Dawn's fixation of keeping things in order. Every morning at six the wards woke up and began to their chores. First was mopping the floors then cleaning the rooms, and washing. There was a lot of washing done at Grady. The police-folk followed them around eight as Dr. Edwards started his rounds. Around the midday, the half of the wards went to kitchen to help the appointed cook with lunch as the rest of them continued cleaning and washing. The days were dull and almost identical, but Beth didn't know anymore if they were lucky to feel bored.

She wondered what Maggie would have done in her position. Her bigger sister was always resourceful, always a rioter. She would have openly challenged Dawn then tried to escape. But Beth had already done that and in result Noah had escaped. She was proud of it, proud of saving him but they had almost died, and even though Noah got free, she was still here. She wondered if he went away to find his family or he was still lurking somewhere in the city, looking for her. She wished he had gone off. The city was dangerous. He needed to get away from it. The thought pained her, the reality that she couldn't see her friend once again, but she needed to find her family, too. She understood.

For the second, she thought what Daryl would have done. He was the most adaptable person Beth had ever met, even though he just thought he was used to things being ugly. The man he'd become wasn't anything like the man back in the farm when they had come to her life first. He'd been like a wildfire then, secluded, keeping his distance, but also a hairbreadth away to bite your head off. That aggressiveness had simmered down, turning him into somewhat a guardian. She had been so mad when he'd left the group back in the prison when he went away to find his brother, felt deserted. Because things weren't simply ugly now, even _she_ could see that. She refused to believe in it, even now, even when all the things she'd stubbornly refused to acknowledge came to bite her at the ass, because if she did, what was the point in still living? She might just go and—she stopped her thoughts and concentrate on what Daryl would have done. He'd told her a hunter had to be always a watcher first, a silent observer. He would have _looked and seen_, reading the signs, the hidden meaning behind a fallen leaf or a broken twig. Yes, he would have surveyed the whole scene, seen the big picture, uncovered what lay beneath then would have prepared a game plan. That was it, what she needed, a game plan.

Not just a damn strategy to stay alive, but a thoroughly laid out game plan.

Then she remembered the prison, how their well-thoughts plans never went accordingly to the plan. Rick had also prepared a detailed plan while waiting for the Governor's attack, something full with words like contingency and tactical, words that she had never needed to use before the turn. She was supposed to catch Judith and went to the bus, she was supposed to protect the little ones, and looked how that turned out? No, she figured out that even well-laid plans had a tendency not to go accordingly to the plan. They had to improvise. Daryl had caught her at the gate, and led her out, surely a clear improvising for she could never imagine Daryl's game plan being saddled with her.

So, she had to be resourceful, she had to be smart, but more importantly she had to be adaptable. This was how she could win this battle, how she could get out.

Observe: The fact one; If Dr. Edwards died, she was also done. If not death, perhaps even something worse. Sometimes, she couldn't tell with Dawn. On instinct, her fingers went to bruises and sutures across her face and she winced. Fact two; she didn't want to get beaten again. But like how her mother had used to say, want doesn't always get.

Turning, she went to the other side of the corridor, and took the mop resting at the corner. She started cleaning the floor. She felt almost invisible while she was mopping, which was just perfect, a silent observer, just like how Daryl had commended.

Dr. Edwards left the corridor to check other patients at the wing, and lifting her head slightly, she tossed a glare at his retreating back. There were only two patients in the hospital now, a middle aged woman who had some internal injuries, but getting better, and a teenager boy around in his fifteen with a broken leg. They both suspiciously looked like they'd had a car accident.

Bullshit, they were full of bullshit. Dawn had told her Gorman and his friend O'Donnell found her on the road injured, but Beth knew better now. They'd caused the accident, she was sure of it, hitting her on purpose. She could not remember, but she knew. They'd intentionally hurt her then healed her to make her owe them. It was sick, twisted, but it didn't surprise her. _I was writing them a thank you note_, she thought bitterly.

Speaking of the devil, Gorman's friend entered in the corridor, holding a shirt in his hand, swiftly walking toward Percy. The old man was wiping the floor at the other side, his head crestfallen, looking tired but when he saw the officer approaching him with that look at his face, his wrinkled face turned white with scare. "You old fool," O'Donnell pushed him at the shoulder, "You can't even mend a hole," the officer shot at his face angrily, waving the shirt in his hand as if to make his point clearer, and being the abuser as he was pushed the man to the ground.

He reminded Beth of the bullies in the school, the ones that her Daddy always said they hurt people because they were afraid more than anyone. Beth couldn't understand properly then, but now she did. The officer was scared, scared perhaps even more than her, and it made her dangerous twice. Fear blocked all the reason, caused you to do stupid things. Like cutting your wrists. At first she couldn't decide if it was desperation or fear that had pushed to her into that way, maybe both, but when she cut open her veins, when the pain came, a sort of epiphany also hit her as clear as the blood running along her arms. She still wasn't ready to die. She wanted to live. She'd remembered that feeling again while watching moonlight and dancing stars in the sky after they'd burned the ramshackle cabin in the woods, spent on moonshine but alive. Oh, how she felt _alive_.

She had to find Daryl and tell him. She wasn't _only_ looking for attention, he had to know. Somehow the notion irked her, him thinking of her like that, like—like those girls in the school, looking always for attention, causing drama. Beth had never been like that, and Daryl thinking of her like this was so disturbing, but she wasn't sure why.

The officer O'Donnell caught her watching the scene, and turned to her. "_You_—" he spat, walking toward you, "Make yourself at least useful." He threw the shirt at her.

Beth stared at him, trying not to flinch, catching the garment in the air before it hit her face. Dawn walked into from the right side of her, exiting out of one of other corridors, and took the shirt back. She threw it over her shoulders to Percy, not giving her attention to any of them, but said, "Not her. I need her." She tilted her head half ahead. "Move."

Dutifully, Beth treaded after her with quick feet. She didn't like the looks the officer giving her. She didn't want to be alone with Dawn either, she wasn't sure if she had cooled down after last night, beating the hell out of her. Though, she had that nagging feeling that the older woman had just gotten her out of the trouble right there. Those looks that O'Donnell had directed at her, she _really_ didn't like them, nope.

Dawn must have felt the same too because after they entered into her office, she closed the door forcefully. "I'd be careful with O'Donnell over there, if I were you." She gave Beth a pointed look, "He blames you for what happened with Gorman."

She swallowed silently. "I didn't do anything."

Dawn shook her head, as if disgusted. "You can fool no one around here, Beth," she said tersely, "Everyone knows you were involved, but can't prove it." She paused, looking at her, and Beth didn't like that look, either, "You know why?"

She didn't, and she didn't want to learn, either, but Dawn continued, "I saw the smashed jar when I walked into my office. I fixed it before anyone saw it. I covered for you." She paused, and her tone turned accusing as she stated, "You hurt Gorman."

Beth knew she shouldn't get cross with Dawn, last night had taught her that if nothing else, but she couldn't keep her mouth shut. "He tried to hurt me. He _attacked_ me."

"And you just couldn't let him, could you?" Dawn spat in anger, her skin reddening.

She remembered Joan's words. "It's easier to make a deal with the devil when you're not paying for it, right?" she shot back, feeling the same anger heating her words, too. What was wrong with these people? Dawn was a police office. She should protect and defend people. Why they let the monsters out there turning them into monsters as well? Even Dr. Edwards told her that she should let it happen. She had to be adaptable, yes, but she could go that far? She could be that adaptable? "You think I should just let him rape me—for what? For the greater good?"

Dawn gave her a look, cold and measured, and it chilled her to the bone. "It wouldn't be that if you do let him."

Beth gave out a bitter laugh. "So what, I'd just whore myself for you?" Crude words were foreign to her, but it just fit right with the situation. She felt sick, bile rising high in her throat, answering her own question, no. She wasn't _that_ adaptable.

Dawn's lips took a turn downward, almost condescending. "You're young and beautiful, and you have no idea how powerful you'd be if you see it, but it's all wasted on you." She shook her head, "This way you're just useless."

A rage even raging what she had felt looking at Dr. Edwards ran through her, spinning her head. "I'm not useless, " she seethed between the teeth, her voice like venom. She didn't care if the damn woman would beat her again anymore, she wasn't going to stand here and listen to her insults. "I helped Noah escape," she reminded her, "I made it out there far long than any of you."

Dawn regarded her coolly, the same contempt in her, "You weren't alone. I remember asking you about a man when you woke up. Are you telling me that you never needed to—"

"No!" she cut off Dawn, heat rising in her higher, "Never! Daryl would never—" She stopped, suddenly having another epiphany. She shouldn't bother. Dawn would never understand people like Daryl. Good people. She knew of manipulation, she knew of fear, and thirst for power and control, but Dawn hadn't any idea what cloth people like Daryl was cut off. Her anger burned out, she almost pitied the older woman, almost. "I was writing a thank you note at the funeral home," she said, "I wanted to say thanks."

For a moment, her expression shifted and Dawn looked torn. "We have to survive, Beth, we have to be strong. Until they come, we have to hold up. This isn't the end."

Beth shook her head again, ruefully smiled. And they called _her_ naïve. "This _is_ the end, Dawn," she repeated. "There is no going back. If you think otherwise, you're a much bigger fool than I am."

They shared a look, a quick glance, before Dawn's fist landed on her again.

* * *

As they walked back to the camp, the night untypically was quiet, silent and calm. It disturbed Daryl more than he could imagine, he felt taut like a stringed bow, rigid and tense as hell. Silence was supposed to be good. It meant no rotters, safe. Now though it meant obscurity, and it made him grit his teeth in annoyance, not knowing but waiting, waiting something to happen. That never boded well.

It felt like they were drifting, drifting away, maybe, just maybe what the redhead jarhead had said was true, going to Washington was their best bet, it would've given them a purpose, a reason to try, something more than just surviving.

"Do you really think we could start over?" Carol asked beside him, twisting her head aside, her voice so small as if she didn't want to break the silence stretching around them. "Go to Washington, save the world?"

Daryl regarded her question for a few seconds. He'd found the woman on the road, tinkering with the car. When he'd asked her what she was doing, Carol looked apologetic as fuck, like she didn't know the answer, either but accepted to come back to the camp with him.

He was getting old for this shit, too old, and he was tired. He shrugged. "I'unno," he roughed it out slowly, not knowing, "The guy was right though. We owe it to lil' asskicker, I guess."

And they did. They were the ones who fucked things up, so they would at least get things better for a change. Only… "Do you really think it'd work?" Carol asked, "Things could go back to normal?"

Daryl gave her a look, and accepted, "No," he said, "There ain't no going back no more. But we have to try."

Because what else they had got to do? One moment—just for one moment—a moment of warm candlelight and soft laughter, and kindness, he thought maybe—just maybe—they would be good like how she'd sung, maybe they would stick around for a while and lay their burdens down, the next second he did the dumbest mistake he'd ever done, he opened a door without checking first and the world reminded him again what a sucker he was, and Beth Greene had become a name to add to the long list of people he'd failed.

Daryl Dixon would never make the same mistake again.

* * *

A/N: _"I'm p-paralyzed with happiness," is the first words of Daisy B__uchanan from Great Gatsby, Beth was impersonating her._

_"Alive, and drunk on moonlight," is an alteration from A Song of Ice and Fire, the real quote is "I'm alive, and drunk on sunlight."_

_These two just reminded me somehow Beth, and this idea came to me, so wanted to try it. This story also inspired by another story I read last week on another site, which I just can't remember its name, but she was trying to get out of Grady on her own too there, too, before the heroes come for her. I liked that one very much too, and got inspired._

_If you let me know what you think, it'd be greatly appreciated._


	2. Chapter 2

_A/N: There is a dream sequence at the end that gentle souls might find disturbing, please be warned._

* * *

II:

The next morning, before the sunbreak, she climbed the rooftop to watch the sunrise, wind blowing through her hair, cracking at her face, like cold fingers touching at her bruised skin. Somehow the feeling was soothing. It was a chilly morning, but it cooled her mind as she tried to grasp whatever normalcy she could find.

_I need to get out of here,_ she whispered to herself, the words becoming a mantra itself. Last night as she lay on the bed, she'd murmured it to herself as lullaby, her head throbbing, her skin as dry as fallen leaves, hurt, but eyes open, facing at the door for any attack. She'd passed whole night, lying awake, in pain but ready to defend herself if anyone tried something, the scissors' handle's metal touch cool in her fist.

Whatever would happen could happen, but she wasn't going down without fighting. She would never.

When the morning had came, she'd left her room and came to the rooftop, to look at the city, an utter desolation and destruction circling her from every direction, a scene from nightmares, a macabre full with horror, air horridly heavy with smell of dead and something she couldn't exactly name, something that wasn't in the wild. The logical part of her brain figured out it as the chemical residue of the napalm bombs, but Beth didn't like the smell of it in the morning.

She winced slightly as a small, rueful smile lifted her cracked lips upwards. "It doesn't smell like victory," she mumbled to herself.

"No, it doesn't, does it?" A light feminine voice commented behind her. Beth turned aside slightly and watched as Officer Shepherd walk toward her. Beth didn't answer, only waited. "I was here at Grady when they started bombing the city. The screams, the fires, the noises-" The female officer shook her shoulders as a tremor passed through her, "The smell—Sometimes I wish I just could forget it."

Drawing her eyes from her, Beth surveyed the city again. Before—when things had been normal, she used to dream living in the city, dreaming how her life was going to be after she graduated, the college, her work, she would be a famous singer and she would meet someone and fall in love crazily and they would get married—have children-and they would live happily ever after. They could visit the farm once in a while, in holidays, birthdays, and summer picnics, but the farm was so small and the world was so big and she wanted to experience that feeling, being lost in that turmoil, feel the heartbeat of the city, a live, breathing thing.

The city was dead now, much like anything else in the world. She shook her head. "You should go—" Beth said, her gaze drawing away from the dreadful, nightmarish landscape toward the officer, "We all should go. The city—it's not safe."

Officer Shepherd looked at her as if she was weighting her words. But a few seconds later, she shook her head. "Nowhere is safe. Out there isn't safer, either, Beth. We at least have a roof above our heads here."

They had got a roof above their heads in the prison too, but it didn't last long, nothing lasted anymore in the world. _We can live here for the rest of our lives, _she'd written in her diary, the diary she still kept in her room under the mattress, blank and with only a few pages left, the rest she'd had to burn to keep the chill out in the cold nights, burning her wishes in the flames. "You don't understand," she said, her voice almost cracked, "Nothing lasts—this all will fall down one day."

To her surprise, Shepherd nodded. "Yeah, it will," she agreed, "But until then it's what we've got." The older woman paused for a second, giving her a critical eye, "You should stop doing this, don't get her riled up."

Beth shrugged, with a difference felt cold even to her. "I don't do anything."

And Shepherd smiled, a wry smile, "I guess that's what annoys her, right? You _don't_ do anything."

Beth's full attention snapped at her, in her mind Daryl's faint growl grunting at her, _"The signs are all there. Just gotta know how to read 'em." _The signs were all there indeed, in that wry smile, with that critical eye. "You—" the officer told her then, sobering, losing the smile, "You've started things—or just fastened it, either way, things might change." Another half of a smile and she heaved out slightly, a hitch of breath, "Things always do. Do you know how Dawn got in the charge?"

She remembered the picture that Dawn had beaten her with. "I got the idea," she answered, and bit the bullet and shot, because she had no time for games anymore, "You know she's cracking. Why do you still follow her?"

"Yeah, she's losing control, and she'd do everything in order to avoid that. She fears what would happen if we don't respect her."

"Do you?" Beth asked, "Do you respect her?"

"I respect her—tenacity." The woman heaved out another sigh, this time heavier, "Hanson made some bad calls, and we paid for them, paid dearly for them."

"If you won't stop this, you still will," Beth said in earnest, "She believes there's still going back from this. That someone will come for you someday. They won't. No one is coming." They had to accept it like she did. There never would be holidays, birthdays, summer picnics anymore, "Sooner you accept it, better it'd be for y'all."

The officer narrowed her eyes in scrutiny, giving her another look, a hard one, weighing her up and down again. "You're not as clueless as you seem, are you?" she commented, "All this wide eyed innocence—all right then," she continued, "We can't do anything before we take down O'Donnell."

Then it all suddenly dawned on her. "You want _me_ to take care of him, don't you?" Beth asked.

Unfazed, Officer Shepherd shrugged off. "O'Donnell's got the support, but we're not sure if we want him in Dawn's shoes."

"We?" Beth asked.

"Me and a few friends of mine." The officer stepped on the aisle next to her at the roof edge, and looked below. "Whatever we do, we deal with O'Donnell first. That man—that man's problem, worse than Dawn." She paused again for a second, "I deal with Dawn, you deal with O'Donnell?" the officer asked finally.

Beth looked at the city, destructed, barren, a ruin. Could she really do it? She'd killed walkers, yes, almost killed Dr. Edwards, and had unintentionally caused that injured doctor's death, but this was different. Could she really plot murder and treason like this, discussing in cold blood, the smell of dead and napalm catching at her throat. Had she really she come to this?

"He will want to come for you one night," Shepherd pushed further when she didn't speak, "and Dawn won't stop him. You know sooner or later she will cave in. She'll send you to slaughter to protect herself."

Anger found her again. "She's being already doing it with Joan," Beth snapped, remembering the woman anguish, enough kill herself to make some damage, "And each of you hasn't done anything. You just let her."

"We never thought we'd win. But you've changed things."

Beth shook her head. "You're no better than her," she said slowly, each word deliberate, "You tell yourself you're because your hands are clean, but they ain't. Everyone use everyone around here."

Shepherd looked at her with that look again, and another smile lifted her lips upwards, "Gorman said there was a man after they got you, running after the car for hours, yelling your name."

Something, a heaviness she didn't even know had lifted off her chest as her vision blurred. He was alive. She knew it, but hearing it—_running after the car for hours…_ Then the officer continued, "He said you must be some piece of tail to get him chase you like that for miles, poor champ he said between laughs, poor ol' bastard losing his birds and the bees."

Another thing inside her snapped, turned cold, frosted. "Once it ends, you'll take me back to the funeral home," she told the officer firmly. She needed to go there. If Daryl was alive, he was surely looking for her. She could track him, she could find him. Even though it felt like a lifetime had passed since she was at Grady, she'd been here only for a week. The trail wouldn't have gone cold yet, the weather was cold enough to freeze the tracks over the soil and there had been no rain to wash them over. She could find him. Hell, she was even sure he'd left a sort of sign for her to read, to make her find him if she would ever get free, something they both could understand.

"You think he's still looking for you?"

Beth decided to ignore the skepticism in her tone. They didn't know Daryl Dixon as she did. She was family, and he would never leave his family behind. He'd even followed her through her stupid suck-ass expedition to find booze to get drunk. She needed to get out of here and find him, find her family. Once they were together, everything would be okay, she would put all Grady behind her, would forget this ever happening to her… then she would just start living again.

Later the day she thought what she could do while mopping the already clean floors pristine, thinking and thinking, and praying she wasn't making a mistake, that God could forgive her, but all in frankness it wasn't like that she had any other option. She figured that praying for forgiveness had a clearer tactical advantage than praying for a divine intervention. It was a thought had ushered out of her so sudden for a second she reddened upon being able to think of such a concept, a while back she could've never imagined herself thinking like that, she'd been raised a firm believer, believing in the "all life is sacred", but things had changed. She needed to get away from these people, their twisted minds, their twisted power plays. Her objection still was pretty much the same, but a decision still didn't mean execution.

_Everyone uses everyone around here,_ she remembered her own words. She just needed to play along, like Dawn said she was young and beautiful, and like Shepherd said she wasn't clueless. She spent the following days discovering patterns, O'Donnell's routine, planning escape routes if things went south, picking up supplies for the road, preparing herself.

At the end of the second week, Shepherd cornered her at one corner, her fingers digging at her upper arms from where she'd grabbed Beth. "What're you waiting for?" the officer demanded, "It's been a week."

"I—" Beth started, but the older woman cut her off.

"I don't care. Just do it. Dawn's getting reckless. We need to act quickly."

Releasing a breath, Beth nodded. "Tonight," Shepherd said, "Get into his room and do it."

Beth looked at the officer's retreating back as she walked away.

In the late evening, she went to the only place she knew she could be alone. Dawn had left the keys in the open so she figured she wouldn't mind it. She wanted to be alone. She sat at the edge at the elevator shaft and listened to the groans and wails of the walkers that were down there in the deep hole, the bottomless pit where she couldn't even see the end, but only hear the monsters calling at her.

"I'm at edge, daddy, and monsters are calling at me," she whispered. She shouldn't think of her father now, shouldn't have imagined how he looked if he saw her now, plotting a murder, of a man she knew with all of her heart as a bad man. Could she call this a preventive attack, an act of self-defense? Aside from leery looks and double meaning words, O'Donnell hadn't still made a move on her, hadn't even _touched_ her. All this was basically assumptions, prejudiced opinions, reading intentions; everything her father had taught her otherwise. Would they be enough now condemn a man to death? She had no answer, there was only this fear, fear for her own well-being, fear of getting hurt, being a captive forever.

How different was she then from Dawn, when those feelings were exactly what motivated Dawn's actions, too? Whether good or bad, her intentions led Dawn to a path of self-destruction, a reckless soul able to do anything to survive, everything else was just a means to an end for the older woman.

For her, Beth was just that too, a means to an end.

But was _she_ that person?

"I knew I'd find you here—" Dawn's voice came behind her suddenly, "Thinking jumping again?"

Beth let out a heavy sigh. "No. I just wanted to be alone," she said pointedly, with a little, bitter laugh.

"Being alone—it's a luxury now no one can afford."

Beth shrugged. "You left the key in open, so I figured you wouldn't mind."

"I don't," Dawn said, walking toward the other corner of the small hall, she saw looking over her shoulder. "Have you decided yet?" the older woman then asked.

Beth stared at her. Dawn shook her head. "I know Shepherd came to you, Beth," she said, and sighed out as well. "Do you really think I couldn't notice what's happening under my nose?"

"I don't know, did you?" she asked.

"I'm not stupid, Beth," the charge of the police said, "Nor I'm blind. I know people aren't happy. You see what I told you, my wards are important, you keep my people happy. But you start stirring things, and now we have on our hands a mutiny."

Beth let out another bitter laugh. "Yeah, it's all my fault."

"It's—" Dawn said earnestly, "You don't know a thing about survival."

"And you think you do?"

"People don't need to like you, Beth, but they need to respect you. For everything we do here, there is a purpose. If we loose sight of that, we loose our integrity as well. Hanson lost it. That's why he was needed to be stopped."

Shaking her head, Beth stood up from the edge. "There's no purpose, Dawn. Why can't you see it?" She was sick of it, sick of hearing justifications, sick of rationalizations, sick of the pretext for being a bad person. "There's only striving now. We don't survive. We endure, from one day to the other. You find a family, you stick with them, and you endure. All the meaning there now is just what we _choose to_ have. Let me go, please. I have to find my people."

"You know I can't do that."

"Why? I only cause trouble, just be rid of me."

A dark glint shone in her eyes. "Don't tempt me, Beth."

Beth shook her head. "Did you wait to see what I'd do, didn't you? Waited to see if I could get rid of another problem for you? You didn't cover me for Gorman not out of kindness of your heart. He was a problem, much like O'Donnell. You know he would try something, so you wanted him gone, but wanted to keep your hands clean this time."

Dawn tilted her head aside, regarding her heavily. "Perhaps you're not that hopeless, after all," the woman said, "No one likes cop killers, Beth, especially when you're also a cop."

Beth let out a humorless laugh. "Shepherd—?" she asked then, "Is she with you on this? Did you pull it off together?"

Dawn turned her humorless laughter back. "No, I'm afraid Officer Shepherd has started to believe that she could be a better figurehead than me, that I've become the villain of the story." She shook her head agitated, anger slipping in her, "Everyone wants to get shit done, but no one wants to dirty their hands. Once you did, they hate you even more for that. People like—Gorman—Hanson—they were bad people, Beth. The world didn't lose anything when they died."

"What do you want for me?" she asked, getting exasperated, because she was really sick of it, sick to her core, sick to her soul and she couldn't even understand why they were having this conversation, why the older officer was still trying to convince her, "Salvation or absolution? I don't get it."

Dawn walked towards her. "I was like you when I was younger. Nobody could tell me anything. I just didn't get it. I was a fool."

"I'm no fool, Dawn," she said as the other woman stopped a few inches away from her.

She wanted to take a step back from the intimidating gesture, but she couldn't, behind her there was the deep chasm that ended up with rotting corpses of eaten flesh, and she could not show off her fear to the policewoman.

"Oh, but you're," Dawn said, "You're a fool, otherwise you should've killed me long time ago," and pushed her back.

Her eyes widened, a scream escaped from her as she fell free style in the elevator shaft.

* * *

"Will you tell me what happened out there?" Carol asked when they took the first watch for the night, just behind the tranches they'd put up outside of the church, but closer to the tree line. As of the moment, they were still at the church in a limbo state, waiting. Even though each of them had voted in favor of Washington, they still stayed, Rick wanting to gather supply first, Michonne wanting to rest for a while, Maggie looking torn what to do, Carol still looking lost, and Daryl—well, Daryl didn't know. He casted a glance upwards toward the sky, as if he could see a path above, but there was of course no shit there. He woulda said it was a peaceful night, there weren't no moans, no snarls, but he didn't want to jinx his chance.

"Whaddya mean?" he feigned ignorance, leaning on his crossbow, even though he knew what the older woman was talking about.

"Well, you've been nagging at me for telling you what happened to me, so I figured out I'd turn the tables on."

"Ain't been nagging at you," Daryl said, frowning. He thought he was doing just exact the opposite, giving her space but support as best as he could.

"Oh, you were," Carol said with a heavy sigh, "You just don't realize it." She stopped for a second, "I know you've got doubts. You've also been avoiding Maggie."

He shrugged, and let out a gruff. "It wasn't your fault," Carol said then.

His eyes snapped at hers. "You ain't even know what happened, how could you say it?"

"Because I know you," she simply said back.

Daryl pulled the crossbow closer to his chest, and fished out a cigarette. He lit it, taking a long drag before he started talking as Carol patiently waited for him. "We were in a funeral home," he finally started, then stopped, not knowing how to proceed.

"Just tell me what happened," Carol urged him on.

"It was odd, the house—it was as if the turn ain't passed by. It was clean, not a speck of dust. I decided to stay for the night. I shoulda gotten irked, but I'unno. Beth just hurt her ankle that morning while I showed her tracking. She got caught-"

"You were teaching her?" Carol asked, interrupting him.

He raised his eyes and saw a funny expression passing over her face. He shrugged. "She wanted to learn. Showed her some stuff."

Carol gave him a warm smile, her hand touching briefly over his arm. "That's nice."

He shrugged again, and continued, "She caught her ankle in a trap, so she was limping, so I wanted to stay. We passed one day, then decided to stay again. At the next evening, when we were eating, I heard a bark, there was that dog we saw yesterday, and I thought—it was him again, so I went to the door and opened it—the walkers—more than a dozen of them—"

Carol frowned. "You opened the door without checking first?" she asked with the same frown in her voice.

He bowed his head, "Yeah."

"Why?" She frowned further, "You would never—"

"Wouldn't done no shit like this, right? But I did." He stood up, throwing his cigarette, and angrily stepped on it on the ground, "Jus' went and opened the damn thing!"

Carol looked at him in silence. Letting a silent breath out, Daryl settled down next to her again. _Damn you, girl, damn you, damn your candle lights, damn your soft lullabies._

"You shouldn't blame yourself," Carol said after a while, "It wasn't your fault."

One part of him, the logical, the rationalist part of him, having the same snicker of Merle's knew that Carol was right. He knew he was just a man, and he couldn't save anyone, knew that in a world like this you could only save yourself, you just gotta survive, but another part, the part that got him to look for Sophia, got him follow her brother's trail, got him run like hell for hours after a car just couldn't accept it, accept that he could give up on people that easily, accept that no one was coming. It made him remember the old days, the desperation and pain he felt while the belt cracked across his back—he stopped his thoughts.

"Last night—out there—why'd ya wanna leave?" he asked instead.

Carol turned her eyes away from him. "I don't think if we should try to save anyone anymore—" she confessed.

"Then why'd ya come back?" Daryl asked then, because she did, she had come back.

Carol shrugged, and sighed, "We have to try, right?" She stood up, resting a light hand on his shoulder. From anyone else the gesture would have gotten him tensed, but from Carol it was soothing, comforting, and he accepted it with a half nod, bowing his head.

Maggie found him after Carol left, and sat on the ground in front him, with a frown over her features. Inwardly, Daryl let out a groan. He couldn't deal with this, not now, perhaps not even. "We need to talk," she declared firmly.

In silence, Daryl nodded. "You said she was alive when she was taken. Are you _really_ sure?" There was steel in Maggie's voice as she pressed on the "really", like though she'd prepared herself for the worst, a sort of bravery facing the reality, but when Daryl lifted his head to look at her, he saw her watery eyes, tears at edge. "I have to know, if we go—if we leave, I have to be sure."

"She's a tough girl," Daryl roughed out, drifting his eyes away, "More than she believes." More than everyone believed, including him. Beth Greene always surprised you for every time he thought he got her she revealed another part of herself. He knew more than once she'd swayed on the edge, but each time she managed to come back, keeping herself well-guarded and secluded despite her pleasant manners. He could still remember the way she used to say they all got a job in the prison, and the simple acceptance she'd had to go to the quarantine with Judith or the way she refused to cry over the deaths of the people she barely knew, but her faith in goodness was still as strong as her stubbornness, though it wasn't effortless, she wasn't some mindless fool who couldn't understand what was happening around her. No, she was smart, she could understand, for that everyday was a challenge, fighting tooth and nail to keep it that way. Letting it go would be easier, but he knew she couldn't accept that. He could clearly see Hershel Greene shinning in her, the woman in front of him sitting might get the guts, balls and resourcefulness of their bloodline, but Beth was Hershel Greene's daughter in every sense of the word. Because Daryl knew if their position had changed, he would've never needed to make this conservation with Beth. Without a question, Beth would've never given up on his sister.

She hadn't. But Daryl had seen the sign Maggie had put up on the tracks on their way to Terminus. Maggie shook her head. "This's a harsh world. I can't see her like that—not after Daddy," she mumbled out, voice broken, tears finally falling. "I—I just can't. I want to remember her how she's always been."

As a part of him railed against the idea, the other part of him understood. Beth was a tough girl, yes, but this harsh world had claimed tougher son of bitches than her. Just imagining her with dead crystal blue eyes was enough to freeze something in his chest—his breath catching, and maybe Maggie was right. In dreams she could be always young, always be a beauty.

So she came to his dream, young and beautiful, full of smiles. She was lying over in a lawn, inside the wild green grass, clad in a summer dress, moonlight and stars dancing across her face in the dark. She smiled wider seeing him, and her face shone brighter with it, and she straightened up and sat on her knees. She reached out her hand, calling him, "I know you'd come," she said in whisper, her voice a soft melody, "What changed your mind?"

He felt like a stone pillar, unable to move an inch, unable to speak, just looking at her, and he wanted to, he wanted to open his mouth to tell her that it was her, she had changed his mind, he wanted to talk to her, tell her about stuff—so much stuff he wanted to tell her, so much stupid shit, but he couldn't find the words.

Then it was dark once again. Her smile gone, she looked terrified, and rose on her knees, trying to catch his hand, her lips opening mouthing his name but no voice came out. He lunged forward to catch her, they couldn't take her away again, but his fingers passed through a grey mist as she shifted backwards like a ghost, her mouth still calling at him in silence.

"Beth! Beth! Beth!" he cried out, still trying to catch her then dropped in the empty air where she had been seconds ago. Then it was all darkness, nothing more. "I got it right, she's a goon'un," Len's voice snickered in the darkness, "a little'un."

He was back in the wilderness now, where he'd last seen those bastards, in front of him was a scene from nightmares. Just beside the blue car he's sat with Rick, Beth lay down now, naked, her ivory skin pale under moonlight, but her face blank, vacant as if she wasn't aware what was happening, because Joe was upon her, grunting and grinding over her, sweaty and dirty, pushing back and forth, slamming in and out as Beth watched the sky silently. Daryl screamed, screamed, screamed, but couldn't stop it—Joe just kept raping her—then Merle was there, just beside his right shoulder—shaking his head, "Now, baby brother, it ain't like you didn't guess it. A pretty girl lost in the woods, alone…wolf always finds her first before the huntsman."

His crossbow—where was his crossbow? He looked around—if only he could find it-then the scene shifted again, and they weren't in the woods, but—_No!_ She was knelt down in front of the big metal tube, the man with the bat behind her, and the other man with knife beside her, still naked, her face barren, she didn't even flinch when the bat hit her, just swayed—looking at him—then the other man took her wrists and cut them open. She started bleeding.

He started crying. "You're late, the wolves got her first, huntsman," Sophia spoke beside him, voice deep in accusation, defeated, "You're always late."

"She cried, they laughed—" another voice, different but the same spoke too from the other side of him, the same gruff, the same chagrin in his young tones, and he turned and faced the blue eyes and dark brown hair he knew, and the familiar scars across his naked back, bleeding. "You can't save anyone, not even yourself," the little him told _him_.

Daryl woke up.

He was trembling where he slept on a root under the tree, his heart galloping at his chest, trying to break his ribcage. He stood up on shaking legs, the nightmare like a stone in his stomach, bile in his throat. He had to go. He had to find her. This—this couldn't be her fate. He couldn't believe that. He had to keep faith. At least he had to do that. He grabbed his backpack, and without a second thought started for the getaway car.


	3. Chapter 3

III.

It was the smell Beth thought that killed her at first. The whole world was under a heavy fog in the dark, shifting through a haze and she couldn't breathe. Underneath her there was a sticky, squishy mushed softness, smelling horridly but her brain didn't register exactly what that meant. It hurt, every muscle in her body hurt, ached like every nerve was on fire, and her head was throbbing so badly. Something had happened, but she just couldn't remember what.

_Focus!_ A voice, a familiar drawl echoed in the haze, a low quiet drawl, but stern and firm, clawing at her consciousness. _Open your eyes,_ it demanded.

Were her eyes closed? She hadn't noticed. Slowly she tried to pry them open, but they were heavy like stones. _Quick, eyes open, _the voice urged on, tone getting more demanding.

On instinct, she obliged, fluttered her eyes slowly, a groan rising out of her depths, but she was alone—_There you go, good girl, _it complemented her.

"Dar—Daryl—" she stuttered, finally recognizing the gruff tone of the familiar drawl. Then it all rushed back on her. Dawn—Dawn had pushed her into the elevator shaft, she had tried to kill her. "Am—am I dead?" she asked, fear clutching at her, perhaps the woman had managed, the fall had killed her. And she was hearing voices now. Perhaps Daryl had died as well. "A—are you dead?" she whispered out, tears running through her cheek. Could she cry if she was dead?

"No, we ain't dead," Daryl said but, "Not yet."

She tried to shake her head, but stopped when it just made a surge of pain bolt through her. "I don't wanna die—" she cried low in her throat, "I don't wanna die—please, Daryl—" her whisper broke.

When she realized her state of her being, she'd started to be more aware of her surroundings. She was at the bottom of the shaft, where they disposed the bodies, and the horridly smelling mushy squishy softness beneath her was the remains of dead, eaten rotting flesh. Her tears fastened but she couldn't move, paralyzed with fear and pain. Low groans and snarls started coming to her ears. "I don't wanna die…I don't wanna die—" she continued chanting, "Please Daryl, don't let me die... I don't want to die..."

"You gotta move—" he said but, "You gotta save yourself."

She could see him now through half opened eyes. He was barely palpable in the haze, a shifting, ghostly figure hovering over her face. "Can't—" she mumbled, "It hurts."

Everything hurt, even breathing, like with each intake, she breathed molten lava. "You have ta," Daryl said back, determination turning his voice to hard steel. "Pain is good. Make you remember you're still alive. Remember how you felt when you cut open yourself. Work through the pain. It won't go away. You jus' have t'make the room for it."

With the last words, the haze shifted, and once stood where he was was another figure, blue eyes and sunshine hair… "Remember now?" Andrea asked softly.

She gasped out a sigh, "You're dead," she whispered, "They brought you back. I cried."

Andrea nodded. "I'm dead, but you aren't."

It was Maggie then, smiling just above her—"Come on, sleepyhead, you still gotta find me, find Judith," she told her jokingly chiding. "We're waiting."

She tried to move her body again—tried to stir her heavy limbs—slowly, pain jolting all through her, her arm raised gradually. Pain was good, she could work through pain. "Good girl," Daryl was next to her again, and instantly she felt better, but he said, "Now—remember what I told ya. You gotta be a part of the woods, one of them."

Beth wished her hallucinations could have been a bit more specific, but for that she guessed she had nobody but herself to blame. Maggie came again then, "Remember how Glenn told us they'd gotten out of the city the first time?" she asked.

Beth remembered. For a second or so, she was alone, there was no more talking to her, no more urging as she finally realized what she had to do. Snarls were coming much closer now. When she'd hit the bottom, even though the sound might have swallowed by the mushy dough of human flesh beneath, she still must have made some noise to draw them. And she was kinda sure somehow she had managed to hit her head so they must have heard that as well. She gotta move. She could not stay limbo here forever.

If not the dead, the smell would kill her anyway. It was worse than she'd remembered. She took a steadying breath, fire still running through her, but she pushed it back. Pain—she would deal with it later. She wasn't hiding from it, only ignoring it until for a more appropriate time. That was what she had noticed Daryl and Rick dealing with the physical pain. When they were injured, they didn't let it hinder them, just postpone it for later. Calming herself, she fisted her hand in the mushed flesh beneath, trying not to gag, trying not to vomit, telling herself she could do it like a mantra.

They all had done it. She could do it, too. She was going to. She pulled her hand back, a fist of rotten flesh, blood and guts dripping through her fingers and started smearing it over her body. As she worked over her skin, she prayed that there was no open cut over her body, but nevertheless it was that or dead, so she quickly sent a word to God then went on rubbing.

The face—her face was the worst. When fingers rubbed the darkened, smelly blood and tissue over her cheeks, she couldn't help but threw up. Her head had twisted aside, and she hurled out. Though, it worked as well because when she had twisted her head, the right side her face touched at the surface, the remains stuck on her skin, so she turned to other side, too, and repeated the action. The smell was awful, and she thought she would vomit again, but after a few gagging, she found she had gotten used to it.

Funny how you can adapt to anything if you put your mind into it, she reflected sourly, slowly sliding herself off the little mountain of dead bodies. She guessed her Biology teacher would have been proud to see her now like this, because if _this_ wasn't some kickass adaption skills, she didn't know what it would be.

###

Luckily, she had already done a recon, and again luckily she'd killed most of the walkers in the tunnels the fist time she'd been here with Noah. The ones that were remained were few, the states of their decomposition telling her that they had been here since the beginning. They were slower than the others, and covered with blood, gust and flesh, slowly staggering she must have looked like one of them.

Her limping wasn't an act. She could not walk fast even though she wanted, and she did, she wanted to get out to the parking lot as soon as possible. She couldn't be safe out there, too, but she could find a place to hole up at least. She didn't know what she could do after then, but one step a time, she told herself. Before she'd thought of going back to the funeral home and look for Daryl after she escaped, but this wasn't how she had been planning.

One step a time, she told herself again. First, get out of Grady, find a relatively safe place to crash, then she would figure out the rest. It wasn't a perfect, laid out game plan, but it was what she got.

God, she was so screwed.

She limped in the tunnel as quick as possible in the dark, carefully avoiding from moans and snarls. On instinct, she found her way, remembering through the haze of her brain. They'd kept forward, so that was what she was doing now, and all in frankness going forward seemed like the most neat idea. Pain was still with her with each limping step, but she ignored it all the same. Later, she berated herself, later. She wondered if Noah was still around here. She knew she had no rights, Noah must be going after his own family, but as she staggered through the dark, she wished a company. The city was going to be hard by all herself, without any supplies, clad only in scrubs, unarmed. She didn't even have her knife, but only the tiny scissor she had hidden under her cast.

She stopped her thoughts. Doubt and worry would do her no good. She would deal with it later, would cross that bridge when she saw. From her left side, she saw a faint sunlight—was it still daytime? Sometimes it was hard to tell in the gloom of the hospital, and she had no idea how long she had exactly had stayed in that open tomb.

The day was about finish when she had gone to the elevator shaft—so she guessed not a long time had passed. Good. She hated the though of being open in the city in the dark. She must find a safe place before the evening came. She groped along the wall to find to the door, and finding a metal surface, she grabbed the metal knob and twisted it. It cracked open, and Beth slowly pushed it with her shoulder, then sunlight attacked on her.

She almost got knocked down.

So bright—it sent a forceful wave of pain, so strong it took her breath away, a powerful current surging in her brain. She raised her arm against the aggressive light, and hid her head. Pain notched up, so much that she couldn't ignore it anymore—but she had no other option either, no other chance.

She took a step further. She could take it, she could endure.

The scissor was in her fisted hand now, the metal touch was like an anchor in the sea of pain and confusion. Snapshots from her last time were flashing over her eyes from her scattered brain, and she got no power left to stop them—so she went through them.

She saw herself rising Gorman's gun and shooting the upcoming walkers—they were still down on the ground, no one bothered to deal with them. A female walker was hobbling mindlessly, unaware of the fact that a breathing live being was just across a few feet from her.

It filled her with courage.

She could do this. She stumbled on her feet, staggering much like she did, and started for the fence door. They never put up watchers on the rooftop, something she knew from experience, and for that she was more than glad at the moment. Even though they had watchers, she wasn't sure if anyone would recognize her now covered with walkers' remains.

Good.

A safe place was a must, but so a knife or a gun, and meds. She needed medications, painkillers and antibiotics. She was sure she had some internal bleeding by the trauma, and a concussion. There was nothing really to do for both of them, if she had to be honest, she'd enough experience both at Grady and with her father, expect to take a few drugs, rest, and pray that they weren't severe. Recovery would take time, she realized with a heavy heart.

Grady was a big hospital that had become a center of health zone in the area. She could see a number of pharmacies around the block, clustered in half an arc, and a few clinics, health care centers for the homeless.

Well, Beth was homeless, too.

She staggered toward the closest to her, at the end of next block, and checked out, swaying on her feet. Less than a dozen walkers were wandering at the other side of the street, three were at her behind, but other than them the place looked deserted. She could see Grady's grand structure looming behind her, half broken, half burnt. She had never realized how damaged the building was from inside, but looking at it from outside made it even worse, Grady was a ruin much like its people.

_You gotta put places like this away,_ her voice echoed softly in a distant memory. She shook her head, another wave of pain hitting her, and she felt glad. She had no time to think like that, time to sulk, moping. She gotta survive first. And pain was good, because it reminded her she wasn't out of the danger yet.

She sent a lingering look toward one of the half broken windows. Interior of the place was dim with the fading sunlight, and she couldn't see any movement. She could not make a noise to urge walkers insides from outside as it also meant she would get the attention of the others outside.

She quickly sent a prayer, lifting her head up, though there were no words, it was a just a wish, passing in her mind, "Please, don't let me die." She guessed it was better than any pray she had ever made.

Slowly, she limped to the entrance and tried to the door. It opened. She wasn't surprised. These days most doors were unlocked, insides already looted, plundered. She was no better, either. That was why she had wanted to leave a thank you note when they had found the funeral home. It looked like how things had been before the turn, and she couldn't have just pillaged it like the others. When Daryl asked her if they'd stick around for a while, for a moment she really wanted to try it, wanted to stay and have a bit of normalcy that had been so cruelly robbed of them, even though there was something—something she couldn't read exactly behind his look, the thing he didn't say out loud, but his silence indicating it all the same, that it was her that made him change his mind… and she'd let out a _Oh_, a bit shocked and a lot more lost, because she didn't know what she was supposed to say at that. And _what_ the hell he was trying to say anyway?

She shook her head—another surge of pain hitting her like a nail in her brain, and pushed the thought away. It was another thing she had no time to deal with.

She took a step in, her breath in her throat, and waited.

She was standing still at the threshold, her hand with the scissor raised a bit higher, ready to attack, defend herself, but no sound came. No groans, no moans, no snarls. Could she be this lucky?

At the moment she thought it, she wanted to take it back. At the moment. A walker pushed himself out of the half block door with a trailer across her, unaware of her.

Well, at least, it was going to be easy. She crossed the hall with light feet, not making a sound, and pushed the scissor inside his eyes with one fluid movement. She pulled it back forcefully as the walker dropped down.

Less than half an hour, she dealt with three other in the same manner, realizing that she had the upper tactical advantage now as long as she did it in silence, so she secured one wing of the clinic after she found a storage with meds. She rummaged through cabinets later, and found a couple of biscuits forgotten in a drawer. While she opened the package, she could cry from happiness. She threw the junk food in her mouth in full pieces, already chewing. She took three painkillers, and another drug Dr. Edwards had ordered her to administer to the woman with internal bleeding, and prayed for a quick recovery.

Inside the semi-secure place, she started feeling lethargic again, listlessness growing as the rush of adrenaline to get herself safety vanished, and drugs hit her bloodstream. She was tired, battened, and sleepy, her eyes drooping… She shook her head.

Bad idea. She had a concussion. She wasn't supposed to sleep, she had to stay awake. She wished again she wasn't alone, that someone was with to keep her company, someone would warn her to keep her eyes open every time she tried to close them… Her eyes fluttered close…

"Hey, Beth," Daryl called at her, "Eyes open. Look at me, girl."

She smiled, opening them, and laughed silently, finding him kneeling in front of her where she sat at the corner, cupping her cheek, "You're not here," she mumbled out, but still rested her cheek against his touch. It felt cold, it felt nice. It felt amazing. "I'm daydreaming Daryl Dixon." She laughed again.

"Is it a good thing?" he asked then, looking at her.

"Yeah," she said, still smiling, "It's a very good thing. Daryl?" She looked at him back then. She knew he wasn't here with her now, she was alone, sitting by herself in a room with two walkers' corpses, more of them smeared over her, internally bleeding, and with a concussion that made her hallucinate him, but she still had to tell him, "I made it."

* * *

This time it was Carol who had found him next to the car before he stepped inside. He stood at the driver side, looking at the older woman, half waiting to call him back to the church. Not that it would matter. He'd made his damn mind. Nothing, even Carol would stop him now. But Carol only opened the door in silence and hopped inside. Surprised, Daryl stared at her from outside.

"Come on in, we're getting late," Carol called from inside. Getting his motor functions back, Daryl followed her example, and slipped in the driver seat. "I left Rick a note, but I prefer to be gone before they wake up," Carol continued at ease.

"How'd ya know I'm goin'?"

Carol gave him again that look, almost rolling her eyes, "I told you, I know you."

"Do you know where I'm goin'?" Daryl asked to clarify, feeling a bit stupid with it, because Carol still acted like it was so obvious, so at your face, and he wasn't sure if he felt good with it. Had he become this much predictable?

"Of course. You're off looking for Beth," Carol said, as if it was the most obvious shit in the world.

"And ya wanna come?" he asked, suspicion drawing his eyebrows closer.

"Well, if we're getting into the saving business, I prefer to start with a smaller scale, one person at a time," she remarked and gave her another pointed look, "Besides, someone needs to have your back out there, sweetheart."

Again, from anyone else the teasing would have come across all wrong, would have made him scowl and pulled back but from Carol it was natural, almost a maternal concern. Not the first time he wondered if having a mother concern would have been like that. He'd never known, his mother while she'd been alive was always drunk, trying to bury her concern with cheap booze, lethargic to even her own pain and misery, walloping in apathy. He gave Carol a slight, silent nod of acknowledgement and started the car.

"Whaddya write to Rick?" Daryl asked, stepping on the gas.

"That we're leaving to look for Beth, and will come back in a week."

From the road, his eyes skipped to the woman, "Will we?"

Her nod was decisive. "Yes, with Beth," she said, "So what's you got in your mind?"

He shrugged. He had a nightmare in his mind, that was what he got. A nightmare that made the reality now looked like a picnic. His temples throbbed with pain, remembering the way Joe move over her and the man with knife took her hands and cut her wrists. "I'm gonna check the funeral home," he declared then low in throat.

It was a long shot but he needed a starting point. That place irked him now when he thought about it, the order, the cleanness, the dog—everything. If it was well-laid trap as he suspected it to be now, then he need to search it. Inside the house there would be some clue that might indicate who kidnapped her from him. He hadn't even gotten the chance to inspect closer outside. "Isn't it overrun by walkers?" Carol asked though, drawing attention to the weak point in his plan.

He shrugged, "Yeah."

Wordlessly, Carol sighed out. "I saw you talking with Maggie tonight," Carol asked for a while, "Didn't she want to come?"

Daryl shrugged with a growl. "She said she couldn't… couldn't see her… if she's—" Unable to continue that thought, Daryl stopped. He had no idea how he could manage to if she had seen Beth like that, too, but he had to try… He couldn't let the wolves get her first. He had to try, that much he at least owed her. Now that he had made his mind, he even wondered how it took him so long.

He'd spent two days chasing her, only stopping for quick snacks or for quick breathes before he restarted, his eyes never off of the tires' trails. He hadn't thought anything else other than that, he could catch them on the road, the tires would blow off, the motor would break down, how many times their vehicles had stopped, leaving them stranded in the middle of the road. It happened all the time, why wouldn't it happen this time, too, he thought, he hoped, one time—just one time the world would be good to him, a miracle would happen— and the world once again made a point to teach him that in his world there wasn't no room for anything else but bad luck.

He had lost the trails at the crossroad, many were mixed together and he had no way to differentiate the tires he had been running after among many others. Defeated, he'd dropped on asphalt, failure and shame and guilt heavy as fuck coming at him all at once. Then bad luck came in, too, hit him at his damn face, and Joe's group found him.

From there on, everything passed through a swirl, at first he was still limbo in guilt and desperation to move away from Joe's, was just drifting away, without knowing what to do, then just before he left the group, he saw them attacking Rick, then Terminus happened.

Terminus had put a lot of things in a perspective, Daryl realized then, even for Maggie. "She wants to continue—" Daryl said after the long pause.

Carol nodded. "She wants to have a family together with Glenn. She's changed. We all do," she said, quickly asserting him a look, "Even you."

"I aint' changed," he opposited, even though he knew it was bullshit. Of course, he had changed. In this world it was impossible not to. So he let out a low growl, and asked, "How I changed?"

"You were like a kid back then, full with anger and resentment," Carol said, "Now you're a man. You've grown up."

For a moment, Daryl couldn't decide if it was an insult or a compliment, so his brows tightened, and Carol laughed softly. "Don't get mad. I meant it as a compliment. We need this Daryl more than the angry, petulant child."

"I wasn't petulant."

Carol laughed again. He stepped on the clutch, and shifted the gear, stepping on the gas with the other, with a bit too much force. The car lunged forward on the sudden speed, throwing Carol back on the back with the momentum. He smirked. Carol rolled her eyes this time. "Petulant child," she chided jokingly.

Daryl's face sobered. "I've changed," he admitted then, "I got soft."

_You're too soft, boy,_ his old man always used to say whenever he got mad at him for something or another, which was almost always. Regularly a fist used to follow after that statement, sometimes, if he was in the mood, the belt too, trying to break the softness out of him, or so he used to say. _"I'll make a man out of you, boy, you'll get toughen up or I'll die trying, swear you. No Dixon ain't gonna be a soft furball, ya hear me?"_

His fingers grabbed the wheel tighter, knuckles turning white. But Carol shook her head. "You didn't get soft, Daryl, you've become resilient. A hardened tree can crack up at the first wind, but a resilient branch might survive a storm."

He got what Carol was trying to say, but he shook his head. "Resilient ain't make stupid mistakes," he said back, changing the gear again. They certainly didn't open a door without checking it first even before the turn.

Carol stayed silent for a while, looking outside, her head rested against the window. He looked at her again, the desolated, lost expression at her face. It was wrong, seeing her like this, so wrong. He had been so happy when he had seen the older woman again alive, relief cursing through him, one good thing happening to him after Beth was kidnapped, but seeing her now like this made something in chest seize, remembering the time he'd told her about Sophia. He wondered then if Carol thought about this as a suicide mission. It was not. They would find Beth, and get her back. And they would be good again. They just needed to keep a little bit faith.

"Whatever happened, happened," he told Carol again, because he felt that was what Beth would have done, because she cared, because he cared, "We'd start over. We'll get her back, we'll find this cure, and everything would be okay."

Carol gave him a long look, smiling at him, and shook her head. "She hasn't turned you soft, Daryl," she mused out loud, "She's turned you into a believer."

He gave her a look back, too, but didn't speak.

###

He found the funeral home the next day before the morning turned to noon. He'd stopped two hours after last night when he'd calculated he'd driven to whereabouts the funeral home then they'd waited until the sun broke to search the woods. He knew they were close, but it still took a lot more than he'd expected to find the damn parlor.

When he did, his heart sickened. The place was full with the rotters now, but he'd known it. What had sickened him to see was her backpack, still lying on the ground, its contents—the money and jewelry had picked unnecessarily scattered around. He'd no idea why he had taken them at the golf club, perhaps because he'd never seen that much money together before, or just because he could can, but damn it if it didn't feel good burning that ramshackle cabin with a bunch of money; Daryl Dixon way for throwing up the middle finger at his past, not that she was satisfied with only that. A playful bump on the short, and a silent demand, then his middle finger was up in the air just like hers.

God, he'd missed Beth, he'd so missed her just like she had predicted. Slowly, silent not to cause any sound, he picked up the backpack and started reading signs. When he'd seen the car speeding up he hadn't had any time to follow them. His hopes were that either the prints or the house itself would have hinted him to somewhere to start his hunt. Seeing the parlor now, he hoped to sweet baby Jesus that the prints would be enough.

Good thing was the weather hadn't turned warmer, but was still cold enough to freeze prints on the ground untouched, but many were mixed with walkers'. Though, there were still signs of a ruckus. He'd picked up Beth's familiar cowboy boots in the middle of the zigzaggy print that circled hers, and two other heavy, tactical combat boots prints, always close to hers. The boots looked like standard issue that military or cops wore on duty, but they were manufactured for the civil folk, too, hell, he had a very similar one in his feet too. He knelt down to inspect further as Carol behind his back put down a walker.

""What will we do?" the older woman asked, grabbing another walking corpse on the neck aside him, and plunged her knife into his brain.

"I need to read these," Daryl grunted out, as walkers started noticing them, and started limping toward them. He'd counted more than fifteen before they'd approached the parlor, but he'd no idea how many still were inside the house. Together with Carol, he might be able to clear the house off, but he just wanted to read the signs first before their fighting would break the tracks even further.

"Gimme a minute," he barked at Carol, "Keep them away." He motioned with waving his arm around the scene.

Carol nodded as he leaned down closer, and his eyes caught another trail, a long one, dragging over the soil, a lean, petite form, and he knew she had fought her attackers with teeth and nails before they stuffed her in the car. His eyes then caught something, the same color of the earth, a dimly shining brown, lying broken on the ground, beads missing from its long line. In her mind, he saw her reaching out to grab his hand, her face lightened with moonshine and with a smile, her bracelet wrapped around her wrist, beads shinning. Seeing the bracelet broken made a sudden wave of anger and rage hit him, so powerful he felt it tingling at his fingertips, blood boiling in his veins, inflamed then he saw the redness over the beads.

He threw his head back and a scream tore out of him, all his guilt, grief, and regret turning itself into a blinding anger, taking a complete reign over him—He stood up, rising the bolt he'd brought higher and stabbed it into the first walker he had seen.

_They had taken her from him._

He turned aside and drove the long bolt into another one. Carol was yelling his name beside him, taking another lurker but he didn't pay any attention.

_They had hurt her._

He pulled the iron bolt from another one, and dropped beside it on the floor, and started hitting it, again, and again and again…as hard as he could…

_They had dragged her on the ground._

More walkers were coming. He lifted his head, and ran towards them. Behind his eyes, Joe and Len were dragging her on the ground…Len's dirty, lewd snicker—_good'un… good lil'un._

_They had made her bleed._

The bolt stuck into the bone of one rotter, so he took his knife out, drove it into the eye of the next one— as the man from Terminus cut her wrists, her bracelet coming apart, beads falling on the ground, tainted with blood…

He was going to kill them… Each of them… he was going to kill them… He slipped his crossbow across his shoulder, and nailed another walker, then hit another with the butt—then he was going to wait to see them coming back so he could kill them again.

When he finished he stood in the middle of his macabre, breathing heavily, his furry evident in the scattered remains of the corpses around them, Carol looking at him widened eyes, his head throbbing-his hands trembling, dripping with blood.

He bowed his head and looked at his hands—knife and bow, then he dropped on his knees, and started crying.

* * *

_A/N: This chapter was so fun for me to write, hope you liked it. And please, review. They make us writers incredibly happy._

_-I took inspiration for Daryl finding Beth's bracelets broken beads from Batman, it was just so much an iconic moment for Bruce Wayne, watching the pearl necklace of her mother dropping on the ground as a man killed her. I like Batman, and I like Daryl, so... it happened._


	4. Chapter 4

IV.

One good thing with his crazed mania, it'd pulled out all the remaining lurkers from inside, so he couldn't stay down there long weeping his shit out. In slow feet, he started hauling himself up. In silence, he could hear the approaching snarls, and faint chirpings in the distance, crickets and birds of the woods. The woods were quiet these days, wildness adapting into the threat of the walkers as well, perhaps even better than humans. Long before the turn, spent most of his life in the woods, Daryl had learned that animals were much smarter than humans. They didn't hurt each other intentionally at least.

Carol was watching him from far, giving him space he needed, no faux flirting, no soothing, no calming gestures now, and he was glad. If Beth were her, she would've rushed to his side, thrown her arms around his waist like she had done before, hugging him in silence, simply giving comfort. The first time she had hugged him, the act had caught him by surprise. He'd been appalled, and confused, and shouldn't have been him comforting her? Not that he'd wanted, god no. He hadn't never been no good in shit like that, he'd never comforted anyone in his life, and never got comforted as well, hell, he didn't even like people touching him but there he was standing stiff and awkward getting a hug from a girl who had just gotten out of her teens. It'd been the first time he'd got the inkling that Beth Greene was…surprising.

The second time-well, the second time was something he still didn't know how to exactly read. They'd managed to grasp a more relaxed rhythm after the fight cleared off some tension, and moonshine had done the rest, opening up them to each other, then after burning the cabin down to the ground they had fallen into an eased, comfortable state, which made him ending up giving her piggybacks, got her holding his hand looking for comfort this time for herself. He'd even scooped her in his arms when she dawdled long in the hall, stumbling on her good leg, carried her to the kitchen. He'd never thought, just done it. It seemed—natural, it seemed—normal. So normal that he'd never stopped and thought what the hell had happened with that fight, how much shit he'd lost it with her—how he'd thrown her into shreds, and why?

He'd been he _really_ that drunk?

Had been he _really_ that much upset with her assumptions about him? Assumptions, and prejudices, he'd been dealt with them all of his life. But she'd made him angry, very angry, and all in frankness, he hadn't drunk that much.

"Daryl!" Carol's agitated voice called him in haste, gesturing the small pack of the walkers exiting out of the house.

God, he must've gotten a real furball, clear as fuck, as he spent a whole minute thinking of hugs and dramatic fits instead of walkers coming at him. How his world had come this? He bent down to nock the crossbow again, and rising it on his shoulder, he shot the closest one on his way to Carol at the eye.

Twisting aside, Carol gave him a studious look, lingering… "On your left!" he cried out, a growl in his throat, launching forward bypassing her and crashed the skulk of the dead corpse with the butt of the crossbow. "Get behind me," he titled his head back, "Close formation—back to back."

Stiffly, Carol nodded. He needed to get his shit together. What'd just happened was a clear warning for him not to go ballistic.

Much to his delight, they'd cleared off the house with relative easiness. The corpses were disintegrating, much easier to deal with. It was a sort of a miracle that more lurkers hadn't come drawing to the noises they'd made since Beth was taken. He wasn't sure how time had passed, keeping time was a tough job in these days, and quite unnecessary if he was to be asked. In his mind, most of the times there was only one time; now. Together they moved the corpses out of the house and piled them up, and went back inside again.

Though the house brought back memories, and stubbornly he pushed them away. He'd make no good now remembering the last time he's pushed that door against the horde outside, terror seizing him, and his own stupidity, yelling at Beth to run…

"_I'm not gonna leave you!"_ she'd yelled back. Sometimes he wished he'd never made her leave him—but he'd gotta pull them bastards away from her. He shook his head. _Enough with this shit, Dixon,_ he chided himself, and followed Carol as the older woman walked down the hall.

The house wasn't nothing like the first time he'd been there with Beth. Once clean and tidy, starkly white now was covered with sluggish walker blood, dirty and tainted. For a second, he felt better. This wasn't the house anymore he'd thought—wished spend some with Beth—trying something—_else_… He didn't know. The thought had come to him—lying in the coffin, she singing to him—and he thought maybe—he shook his head again, berating himself, then his feet found the kitchen.

He stopped as if someone hit him at his guts, his breath catching at his throat. The kitchen was much like the other part of the house now, too, bloodied and tainted but before his eyes, there were candle lights, her soft humming as she bent down to write her thank you note…

Then she lifted her head—_what changed your mind?_

He turned and threw himself out of the kitchen. From the threshold, he could see with the corner of his eyes Carol giving her one of those long looks again. "You check the kitchen, I'll check the hall," he told the woman, quickly walking away.

He knew it was going to be hard, seeing this house again, but he hadn't thought it'd be like this. He quickened his pace and went to the service room—the piano and the coffin still there—the couch beside the coffin—and standing at the threshold, he understood he didn't have any slightest idea what the fuck he was doing.

Maybe—maybe he just wanted to have a closure—to give himself some sort of comfort, tell himself in the long dark nights that he'd tried—had looked for—he'd come back for her, but how she was gone—he couldn't find her again—

_No!_ He shouted at himself. He wasn't going to give into despair again. He was here only for one purpose, finding her, and he was going to find her—or—or—something caught at his eyes at the far end the corner of the room, a stand where a pile of old brochures and booklets were piled up in the racks. It was the booklets and handouts of the church that used to run this place, but never been the one on the market for God, Daryl had never given his attention to it. He faintly remembered Beth going through the racks, though, and he'd told her to grab a few to stash into her backpack for emergencies and they'd need to start a quick fire or something—paper would always come handy on the run. Beth had stuffed a few into her bag—one with rhymes and prays, another calling for Grace, and the other a white cross on the black canvas something about health.

Tumbling a few chairs down on the way, he rushed to the stand. His heart in his throat, he started rummaging through the racks, through the booklets, handouts and brochures, throwing them on the ground as he went through, his eyes fixated, it was there, he was sure of it. It was there, he had _seen_ it.

Damn him, damn him to the hell! He _was_ such an idiot.

"What are you doing?" Carol asked behind him, coming to check possibly because of the noise he'd made with kicking the chairs out of the way.

"The white cross—I've seen it," he answered roughly turning words in his throat, his hands working fast, "Just remembered it." _So stupid._

Carol came to his side. "Where?"

"There!" He pointed one of the handouts at the last rack, and knelt down to take one. There it was, white on the black canvas—he'd read the community's name. White Cross Peace Organization. Very creative. The religious organization was running a few health care clinics and a hospital across the continent, two of them being in Atlanta, and was calling out to the believers for donations.

Carol frowned. "I know them. They used to run a shelter home too in the city. I—I once went there," she said, leaving the rest unsaid, but he needed not to hear them to know why she had went there. "They—they used to run a hospital too," Carol then said.

Daryl nodded, showing her handout, "Yeah."

"I saw their staff using cars with a white cross on the windshield once."

For a second, he couldn't breath. It felt like someone shot him at his throat, then he looked at the down in his hand, and read the hospital's name in Atlanta; Grady Memorial Hospital.

# # #

"We don't know it for sure," Carol said as they drove back to the city, "The hospital staff—they were good people," she mused aloud, "Maybe she jumped on the road and they didn't see her and hit her then had to take her."

He shook his head. He'd run after the car for hours, yelling her name. There was no chance in hell that they hadn't seen him like that. No. They'd seen him but hadn't stopped. Even though he might've thought otherwise for some reasons, after seeing the signs of what had happened outside the house he had no doubts. "You saw the tracks outside. They fought. She fought with them, they dragged her. They kidnapped her." He paused for a second, and guessed, "They might've taken the car from somewhere else."

Hell, even now they were driving a car they'd found on the road. It wasn't like that these days ownership meant much, which also meant another thing clear as fuck, but he didn't want to acknowledge it. Carol, though, wasn't having his hesitancy. "This's long shot, you know," she remarked, "If someone else took the car, we wouldn't find her."

Anger boiled inside him. Of course, it was a long shot. Coming here, looking for something, it was a long shot, but what else he got to follow? "That's what we got," he grunted out.

Carol nodded. "Okay, as long as you know…" she said, but it meant "don't get your hopes much".

Cooling down, he skipped his eyes toward the woman. "Look, I know it's dumb luck—but I have t'check, 'kay, I gotta know for sure."

Carol put a light hand on his arm. "I know, Daryl, I know. You don't need to convince me. I'm here for you," she said, "We'll go check. We've found each other on worse luck." She swallowed, taking her hand back, and sighed out. "I just wanted you to know—"

He cut her off, "I know."

When all things had said and done, they lapsed into the silence as he drove back to the city.

# # #

He'd seen the city after the breakout only once when they'd turned back looking for Merle. Things had been bad even then, but then it looked they turned to worse. He hadn't passed long time in the city after the turn. He'd been with Merle on one of his many trips in the trailer, doing no shit whatsoever, then all hell broke loose, and they ended up with the quarry camp with their original group, and aside that time searching for Merle, he'd been always away the city, usually hunting as the others went on the runs.

So when he drove on the highway, crossing over the Jackson Street Bridge, everything about the fucked up world they ended up living in rushed back at him. It was easier in the wild, woods sometimes made you forget, you saw a bird chirping at a tree or a flower blossom out of earth, and for a brief but marvelous second you forgot about the dead walking around, you forgot the danger, you forgot you were on a borrowed time, and with each breath you took you were stealing away from the inevitable. It was only a moment, of course, the next second someone cried out and a walker wandered in—but for a second there was that respite, if only for a second.

In the city, there wasn't left even that second.

Everything was in a total desolation, a scene from the apocalypse movies that Merle got a liking to watch. The air was still heavy with Sulphur remnants, mixed with dust and ash, catching throat. He tried to swallow forcefully then stopped the car at the bridge.

His eyes skipped toward Carol. Suddenly guilt found him again. He shouldn't have brought her here, shouldn't let her come in this death trap, in this open graveyard. He opened to his mouth to tell her she should go back, but the woman beat him to it. "How do we do this?"

"Carol—" he said then, leaving off a breath, "You can go back. You don't have t'do this." It was a fool's hope, they both knew it, but he had to try. She didn't.

But Carol shook her head. "No. I'm not going," she said, and repeated, "So how do we do this?"

He let out a sigh, but admitted. Carol could be as stubborn as he was when she wanted. "A'right," he said then, "First we find a vintage point and look out. I want to have a bigger look." First rule of hunting; always know your habitat, mind your surroundings. If you don't, on the hunt for a squirrel you might ended up entering a coyote or worse a bobcat's hunting zone. So, look, wait, observe before you did anything else.

Carol nodded. "Okay. Let's go. I know a place just for that."

# # #

The building Carol had brought them was a complex that ran across at least half of the block, stationed few blocks away, but still having a clear view of its grand structure. Grady looked like a massive, half burnt out, half destructed stone building of the old times, possibly built in the early nineteens, but enforced with glass paneled windows and stainless steel later in the days, looking desolated but still sharp in its current situation. A shiver passed over his spine. If Beth was really there, it wasn't gonna be a picnic getting her outta there. Perhaps he was going to even need help.

It'd taken them the rest of day to get in the building, slowly silently treading in the city. They'd run twice with walkers but each time they'd managed to get away at the last moment. The state of the city was even worse inside the streets when you got nearer the city center. He'd never been in the city center this close, either, the place the whole business with Merle had happened was at the edge of the city confines, as no one with the right minds would want to get deeper in the city no matter what. In the heart of the city, corpses were everywhere, almost completely destructed with the bombings but still stirring, a part of darkened cement and asphalt. The hordes were there, too, circling the blocks aimlessly but somehow the area around Grady looked more peaceful as if people tried to make it, the fences were up and well-maintained, aside from the occasional melted corpses along the curb there were few wanderers around the building. He wasn't sure, though, what that meant.

He was stationed in front of a window at the upper section of the building that had a clear view of Grady until up to its rooftop, where he was scanning now with the binocular of the rifle he'd brought. Below in the parking lot, he'd seen four vehicles with white crosses on the windshields, which had made him more intact. If they were really hospital's staff, maybe there was really an explanation for her kidnapping.

There were three people on the rooftop, talking, their gestures coming to him agitated, and even though he couldn't see clearly, he recognized the uniforms. He signaled Carol to come over. "Found something?" the older woman asked.

He handed her the weapon, and pointed at the rooftop. "Look," he ordered.

Carol stayed silent for a few seconds then pulled back with a frown over her eyebrows. "The police?" she asked.

He nodded. They were police at the rooftop, one male, one female, clearing arguing over something if he could read any body language, and there was a man with a white long doctor shirt. He took the rifle back and focused on them through the bino. He watched the woman got more agitated as she spoke then the policeman pulled out a gun on her—what the fuck?!

Beside him, he heard Carol gasped out. But the policewoman had acted first. Before the man could pull the trigger, she was on him, grabbing his wrist, rising the gun up in the air, then hit him at his guts. The man bent down, holding his stomach with his other arm as the woman kicked him at the shins, grabbing for the gun again. They fought for a few second more, before she managed to kick the gun away from her. He kicked her back in recuperation, a fist coming at her hard at the face. She dropped on the ground, the man kicked her stomach with the side of his boots. From his vantage point, Daryl couldn't be certain if they were the same boots that he'd seen the tracks, but somehow he knew.

It chilled him to the bones. They were some nasty shit going up there, even from far away, he could understand. He needed to get Beth outta there. The woman was still on the ground now, man kicking her senseless, her head was up though, looking behind the policeman, over his shoulder, to the doctor.

Her lips moved, and she raised her hand, and suddenly the doctor moved fast, pulled back the policeman off her and pushed him back off the rooftop.

Lowering the rifle, Daryl watched the man as he hit at the pavement, his head scattered, one leg twisted with a peculiar angle, blood pooling under him—dead.

Turning his head, he shared a look with Carol. "What was that?" Carol asked in a whisper. His eyes found the dead boy on the ground, then shifted upwards at the two distant figure standing still at the rooftop, looking below.

Trouble. It was some trouble shit, he just knew.

He opened his mouth, but before he could say a word, he heard quick running steps in the corridor, stomping like a bull in china shop, heavy and disoriented. No walker.

They'd seen many walkers in the center, but aside the cops up there trying to murder each other, they hadn't seen any living being. He rushed towards the corridor—and blocked the way, holding his rifle aimed, Carol at the next side, her gun raised as well.

"Stop." He growled out.

It was a lanky, gaunt boy around Beth's age, just out of his teens. He had a frantic fervent gleam in his eyes, some crazed agitation in his motions, making him look like a lunatic. He froze, seeing them, looking even more out of his mind with terror. "I—I—let me go, please," he said, "I mean no harm."

"What are ya doing' here?" Daryl barked out.

"I—have to go," he shook his head, his eyes skipping toward the hospital, "The shit hit the fan, I gotta go. I can't wait anymore. They killed O'Donnell, too."

His heart skipped a beat. Daryl took a step forward, nodding toward Grady, "You know that place?"

The dark-skinned boy nodded. "Yeah. I came from there."

He clutched at the boy's arms. "You know this girl?" he roughed out, his voice deep in his throat, letters much like beads of her bracelet in his throat, gaging him. His fingers dug into him further, "Blue eyes, blonde hair, small stature."

The boy's eyes widened, "Beth? You know her?"

Daryl loosened his grip, his arm dropping at his arm, a feel of something he'd never felt before surging through him as the first time all in his life his prayers had been listened.

# # #

His temples shot with pain with each word the boy kept talking. "She got us out, we made it till the parking lot then she stayed behind shooting at the walkers to cover for me. They got her as I passed the fence." He took a breath, guilt residing in his eyes, "I'm sorry. I couldn't stop."

He wanted to hit something, hurt something—all those feeling that had reigned over him back at the funeral home threatening to break in him, but he kept a strong hold on himself, restraining his anger. "It ain't your fault," he grunted out.

He wasn't angered at the boy. He was a victim as Beth was, kidnapped and forced to labor against his will. He was angered at those son of bitches at the hospitals, exploiting the weak and undefended. Beth wasn't weak nor was she undefended. Like many had crossed paths with them, like Rick had said, they were gonna feel pretty stupid when they found out they were screwing with the wrong people.

Just the boy—Noah sitting now in front of him was the clear indication of that.

He was proud of Beth, proud that she didn't take their shit, she fought back, tried to get out, even forfeit her own freedom to get Noah escape. It also made him grit his teeth in ire, just thinking that it could have been her now sitting across him if she hadn't done that, but nevertheless he was proud of her. It was the Beth he knew.

But—from everything else Noah had told them, he knew she would've paid for that as well. His fingers tingled. "Would they hurt her?" he asked, feeling dread looking at the bruises covering his face, "Punish her?"

In shame, Noah looked away. Anger boiled in him again. "When she's stressed out, Dawn loses her shit—" His hand waved across his face. He sensed Carol tensing next to him, too, "After Gorman, Joan, and my escape—she must get—very—stressed."

Daryl pushed back on his feet, started pacing the room. "How many people they got?" he asked, walking back and forth, "Arms, patrols. The entrances and exits, the walkers. I wanna know every single shit."

Noah nodded, started retelling. When he finished, he stopped his pacing and looked at Carol. There were too many, just too many only for two of them to take her out. Carol must have thought the same too, because she looked at him and said, "We must go back and talk to Rick. This isn't a two man job. We need them."

Daryl knew she had a point, but he wasn't going to leave Beth again. "'I ain't gonna leave her," so he told her simply. Never again.

Carol understood, nodding. "Beth said she's got her people, but you were scattered in the wild. Have you found each other?" Noah asked.

She looked at the boy. "Yeah. We have."

Noah's look turned back to him. "Beth said she was with someone—she was afraid they hurt him," he stopped, "They left my father too to death getting me. They left him because he was stronger. Didn't want him to cause trouble." He stopped, black eyes looking at him, "Is that you? You were with her?"

Daryl nodded back. Noah sighed out. "She wanted to find you. She said she had to get out and find you."

He couldn't breathe, like something had gripped his heart and, was squeezing it, crushing it, his head was turning… He turned to Carol. "Take him and go find Rick. Tell them what happened here. I'll wait for you here, will look around."

# # #

After they left, Daryl went to check the windows, looking at Grady—wondering what she was doing now—what they had her doing now. She was finally within his reach but he couldn't take her. He couldn't protect her. He sensed the boy had left some stuff out, not wanting to get him more riled and now what he hadn't said clearly, his mind was filling in the blanks.

There was a woman there who—who had had enough to kill herself just to get her back—and that other police officer Beth had killed—he didn't like the inclination Noah did. Some stuff that that woman in charge turned a blind eye, pretending not seeing.

He shook his head. He should not get into there, not now. Beth needed him in his right min and fully intact. She was alive. Whatever happened, happened, but she was still alive. Even if she was hurt, they would heal together. The only thing mattered now was that she was alive.

So he had to find her, just like she said, they needed to find each other.

He raised again the rifle, and started watching Grady again. It was getting late, the sun was setting down. Soon it was gonna be dark. Dark and full dead, full of terrors. Inwardly, he shook his head again at himself, and concentrated. He gotta learn about this shit as much as possible. Then once Rick came, they would get her back. He wanted the man beside him now, wanted his brother. If Rick was here, even though he'd screwed up things, Rick would get her back.

She had to come back. This place wasn't her home. She belonged with her family. With Maggie, with Judith, with Carl, with Rick and Michonne, with Carol, with _him_. With people who loved her dearly just because who she was, not because she was useful for something.

He tipped the end of the weapon downward, turning his eye below the streets. Grady stood in a circle of a cluster of health zone, in the middle of it, circled by pharmacies and clinics and doctor offices. He surveyed the area for quick getaways, memorizing the roads and streets. Noah had stated that the best entry point would be the parking lot as it was the less missing the walkers. It was also the police officers used when they went out, so it was also the most dangerous. He fixed his attention there, circling the area, then with the corner of his eyes, at his left, he caught something.

A walker was limping slowly towards one of the clinics for homeless, clad in scrubs, blond messy ponytail caked with dirt and blood, but still having a shine of the faint sunlight. He didn't know what made him pick her up, probably because she'd been one of the staff at the Grady before, judging by her attire, and that ponytail across her back… she then twisted slightly—her profile—covered with blood and dirt loomed through the bino.

He stopped breathing. His hands terribly trembling, he refocused the glass, adjusted it on properly on her face, and she turned a bit more, and there she was.

Covered with walkers' blood, tissue, and guts, Beth walked to the clinic and slipped through inside.

# # #

If anyone asked him how he left the building and came in front of the clinic he'd seen her slipping, he couldn't have given any answer. It felt one moment he was there—looking at her blood covered face—not dead but very much alive face, the next second he was in front of the clinic.

He didn't even know how many walker he'd killed, he didn't count, who would care for such things even she was alive—out—alone in this fucking shithole wretched city.

He wanted to laugh, he wanted to cry, he wanted to drop on his knees and prayed every little prayer he'd ever been taught—but he didn't done one of these things, he just stood—his hands on the knob, the anticipation paralyzing him.

The next second he pulled the knob open and pushed the door.

When he'd been out dealing with the rotter, she must have dealt with others inside too, because there were corpses inside that looked just had dropped down, passing two and half year in the wild, one could tell the difference.

He searched her inside, silent so that he couldn't scare her shit, opened the doors one by one, then finally found her in an exam room, at the far corner sitting her back against the wall, her head rested back.

But she didn't make any movement as he walked inside. "Beth?" he called her softly, soft and faint, barely audible. She still didn't move.

He approached closer, dread like a stone deep in stomach. No. It couldn't be. She couldn't—not when he'd found her. Not when they'd found each other… Panic rushed at him at him like a flood, drowning him… He knelt in front of her—shook her shoulders—"Beth—Beth—" he called at her, tears threating in his eyes, "Beth!" Then he noticed her slow breathing.

Relief washed him over. But something wasn't right. Her skin under all those horrid blood was sheet white, and there was a nasty looking lump at her forehead, almost as big as his fist. She was out of conscious. She was hurt.

Panic seized him again. What happened? What the hell happened to her?

"Hey Beth," he called at her again, shaking her shoulders, this time gentler, "Eyes open," he ordered then watched with a surge of relief that she was fluttering them. He cupped her cheek, her skin hot against his skin, like she was burning…like she was on a fever. "Look at me, girl," he forced out roughly, words sticking in his throat. He couldn't think of that… he just could not.

She smiled, hearing his voice, he understood, hearing _him_, and laughed silently, "You're not here," she mumbled out, resting her cheek against his palm. His eyes pricked, his vision blurred, "I'm daydreaming Daryl Dixon."

She let out a rough laugh. She believed he was a fragment of her imagination, but wasn't here. That she was dreaming of him, wishing him to be with her. He felt his heart at his throat, "Is it a good thing?" he asked, voice cracking as he looked at her blue eyes, now glazed—unfocused, lethargic.

"Yeah," she said, her smile still on her lips, and he'd forgotten how beautiful she was, even like this, "It's a very good thing. Daryl?" she called him out, and paused before she told him, "I made it."

Then she passed out again.

* * *

_A/N: I should've mentioned before the timelines aren't lineer, shouldn't I? But didn't want to ruin the surprise. The Show always do it too in their storytelling, so I wanted to try as well, hope you liked it!_

_As again, reviews make me write faster, please, don't forget to drop a line or two, if you liked. Thanks._


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N: Whee, I'm on a roll these day, updating nicely :) Enjoy!_

* * *

V.

Her eyes fluttered close again— in the darkness there were hands that were shaking her. "Hey, hey, eyes open," his agitated voice ordered, "Up at me!"

As hallucinations as went, her Daryl was as pesky as the real one, Beth decided. She must get a prize for that, she figured. Though she had to admit she had a limited knowledge about having head trips. The only time she had come remotely close was the time she'd gotten drunk with him, and it didn't exactly fit in. She just wanted to sleep for a bit.

"Don't close your close," he warned, "You shouldn't sleep."

Yeah, she nodded, waiting for the pain, and but it didn't came as hard as before, only a drill through her head, mildly irritating for her standards now. "Yeah, yeah, got it," she mumbled, lowering herself on the ground on her side, her back against the mopboard, resting her head on the hard floor.

Daryl scooted over her, and his eyes found hers. "Beth, what happened? Who hurt you?"

She frowned—drill slowly working through her temples, but she was hot, so hot, burning to her core. Her hand raised, and she briefly touched her forehead.

Okay, the facts. She hurt her head falling, she started counting inwardly, and was having hallucinations, and she had a fever, but she knew what happened. Dawn had tried to kill her. Had she forgotten something and now her brain was trying to make her remember? She tried to remember—but she couldn't _remember_ if she forgot anything.

It was all so confusing. "If I forgot something and need to remember, you gotta be more specific," she mumbled, looking at him sideways, "You were a lot less cryptic back in the elevator shaft." He'd just told her what she should do. Why couldn't he just do that now?

"Were you dreaming me again?" he asked.

Again, she frowned. "I'm losing my mind—" she muttered, tears falling, her eyes closing, or she was just dying, she reflected. People had strange dreams before they passed away, her father used to say… And she was burning to her core… did she—did she get the infection? She couldn't remember feeling this hot… somehow perhaps she even got bitten but forgot it? Perhaps didn't realize? That was what Daryl wanted her to remember now? It felt awful. Going through all that shit and ended up dying all alone like this… "Please, please don't let me die—I don't want to die…" she chanted again.

His hands found her shoulder again, this time gentler. "Beth, hey, Beth, look at me." She didn't. She wanted him to go now. It made it harder, seeing him—reminding her all the beautiful things so cruelly had been taken from her. "Go away…" she cried over, "Let me die in peace."

He sat down on the ground, and gently took her head between his hands, and rested her across his lap. She must have totally gone out of her mind, because it felt so real—he felt sturdy beneath her, the muscles at his thighs were stout and strong, not shifting through a haze—her eyes started drooping again… "Hey—look at me—" He shook her again, "you ain't gonna die, ya hear me?" From his lap, she looked up at him with glazed eyes, not understanding.

"And you ain't dreaming," he continued, "I'm here. I'm real. I've found ya."

She shook her head, "No. This's a dream," she drawled out, passing a hand over her forehead, "I—I must get—infected…"

For a moment or so, he looked more frightened than her, worse than her—his hands clutching at her shoulders, his fingers digging in her skin, "Did ya? Did you get bit?"

Why did he ask _her_? It was who she had been asking _him_? He was her hallucination, dammit. He was supposed to help her here. She tried to jog her memory—she had fought inside the clinic a couple of times but after she had taken drugs it had become so fuzzy. Maybe she'd fought another one but couldn't remember it. There had been so much pain in her body, she couldn't feel anything different—but maybe she got a scratch or a nip or something, something she hadn't noticed.

Then it hit her—the open graveyard at the bottom of the shaft. She'd been worried if there was open wounds or scratches over her body as she'd smeared the walkers' remains over her body. What had she hoped really? She must have fallen at least fifty feet, of course she gotten some scratches…

Her tears fastened… not only she was going to die in this forsaken place with only her own imagination to keep her company, but she was going to turn into a walker—condemned to a living hell, living as a corpse forever—hurting people. She'd always hoped if it ever happened, there would be people around, people that cared enough to put her down.

It still hurt her they couldn't do it for her father. If she'd a gun she must do it herself. Could she kill herself with a scissor? She'd seen Dawn doing it once. Perhaps she could just do it.

It was his hands fuzzing over her shirt that brought her attention back to him, baring her shoulder and neck, "What're you doing?" she managed to gasp out, truly startled.

His head bowed over her, hard, steel eyes found hers. "Did. you. get. bit?" he asked again, pressing on the each word firmly.

"I don't remember…" she confessed, feeling odd, because it really felt real, having his cool touch against her skin as she lay down on his lap, facing up at him, "I—I might get scratches when I fell, I don't know."

He bared the other shoulder. "When you fell?"

"You don't know?" She must have started fucking up with him in her mind too, because real Daryl wasn't this stupid.

Frantic hands shifted open the necklace of her shirt, "Jesus Christ, I told ya, girl, I'm here. This is real."

"You can't be…" she said but, "No one's coming."

"Well, I did."

God, it was so bizarre, but she couldn't care anymore. "I wanted to find you, too," she told him, because she'd always wanted to tell him, "They said you ran after me for hours."

His hands stopped. "It don't matter now. Tell me what happened."

So she just did. "Dawn threw me off the elevator shaft," she said, "I was a fool."

His hand tightened on her. "She wanted to kill ya?"

She gave him a look. "No, she wanted to see if I could fly," she answered sardonically, then sighed out. "They dropped the dead bodies below the shaft, keeping the walkers full and tame… Fell on them. That's when you came, you and others… Maggie—you—even Andrea. You made me remember. Told me be one of them." He was looking at her intently, his hands frozen on the shirt, "Smeared the walkers all over me, you did too before, I remembered." She paused, "I made it."

He was silent for a second then he pushed her off his lap and drew her back against the wall. "What are you doing?"

"We need to check ya, see if you get any wounds open," he flatly said, and tugged at the hem of the shirt of the scrubs, "Your arms, up."

Her eyes widened, she stared at him, because even in her dreams she could not dream anything like this—Daryl Dixon tugging at her shirt, wanting to strip her off it, "Beth, arms up," he repeated when she didn't move.

Feeling losing the last sense in the world, she raised her arms up and let him take it off her. The room she'd holed up was dimly lit—fading sunlight slipping through the cracks over the shutters, glooms and shadows making the whole experience even more surreal. Though, it was nothing erotic. The shirt was caked with sluggish blood and guts, and with horrid smell, and it came with difficulty off her body, stuck on her skin. Bowing her head slightly, she saw her bra –once pearly white in the hospital—now was darker with specks of redness, hotness hitting her again, this time for different reasons.

Then he took the black cloth once she'd picked up berries from his back pocket and started scrubbing her. His hands went her chest first, where the cleavage of her shirt left more bare skin, keeping his arm carefully away from her breasts. Once he finished scrubbing, he started inspecting closely. From her angled neck, she could see her body was covered with bruises—all range of purple—dark and darker and yellow, but she couldn't tell if they were from Dawn or from the fall. His lips tightened, a scowl turned them into a thin line seeing them, but he didn't comment, and she was glad.

He inhaled a sharp breath, his hands froze on her skin, and he got closer, inches apart from her, and from this close she could see dark purple veins throbbing in his temples, his smell filling in her, "Is it—is it a scratch?" she asked, fright making words barely audible.

For a single moment, he didn't answer, and she thought that was, she was really infected, then he relaxed. He shook his head. "No—" he said, the voice as faint as hers, a throaty whisper, filled with implications left unsaid.

She closed her eyes, driving her head back, tears starting again. "Daryl?"

His eyes didn't leave her, firmly on her skin, "Mm?"

"Is this real?"

"Yeah."

She gulped. "If—if I'm—if I'm infected, I want you to do it, okay?" she raised her head back, and their eyes found each other, his hands freezing again, still so close to her, "If I'm, you have to do it. Promise me."

He shook his head, "Don't talk like that."

"I can't be like that. Please—don't let me be like that—" she gestured vaguely with her head at outside, tears falling openly.

Wordlessly, he only nodded back.

It took almost an hour to cover her body, slowly scrubbing, slowly inspection every inch; chest, shoulders, arms, abdomen, scowling at the darkest purple bruise just at her side where it looked like she was internally bleeding. He then took her pants, too, looked over her legs, thighs, even her feet. They didn't talk—but their hearts stopped four times before they both let out a breath, still heavy with all the things left unsaid, and moved to the next part.

Bent down over her left feet, he was inspecting her heel for the last, then he let it go, straightening up, and announced. "All clean."

Over the tears, she nodded, pulling her legs to her chest, and wrapped her arms across her knees. She felt fully awake now, still burning and hazed, but somehow awake—it wasn't a hallucination, it wasn't a dream. Hell, it wasn't even a nightmare. This was real. Daryl was here, sitting beside her legs on the floor, and she was here beside him in her underwear, at the edge as thick as a scratch, a scratch between the dead and the living.

She rested her head on her knees, her shoulder shaking with her cries, trembling. She felt a light touch on her, and lifted her eyes up slightly to see Daryl covering her with his outer shirt. She looked at him, "I _was _writing her a thank you note," she said, remembering, tears fastening.

She was a fool, much like how Dawn had said, Beth Greene was the biggest fool on this decaying, rotting suck-ass world. For a moment, Daryl looked at her then hesitantly, as if he didn't even know how to do it, he pulled her closer, taking her against his chest. His arms wrapped around her torso as she snugged closer, hugging him back.

As she cried, she felt a light touch in her ponytail, slowly treading through her knotted, tangled messy locks as his hand gently caressed her hair.

# # #

All of his life Daryl never wanted to kill anyone this much. Even Governor himself couldn't come close, and in his book that said a lot.

Hesitantly, felling shit awkward he caressed Beth's hair while holding her against his chest as she wept. This must have been the most bizarre things had ever happened to him, and in his book, that _also_ said a lot. There she was, Beth Greene, in his arm, covered only with his shirt and her underwear, crying on his chest as he gently tried to soothe her by caresses.

Bizarre even began to cover it up, he decided casting a glance at their entwined figure, but as she snugged even closer as if she was still trying to make sure he was real, _this_ was all real. What the hell that bitch had done to her? She beat her, for starters, he answered his own question. That was quite obvious now, her body was all covered with bruises, and on her face there were stitches, thank god, pretty shut close stitches. Searching her body, looking every inch, looking for a small cut, for a small scratch…his heart stuck in his throat, skipping a beat each time he saw something close to a little scar… it'd been the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life. God, he was getting too old for this shit.

_I was writing her a thank you note._ Finding her was hard, finding her like this was even harder, but when she finally had uttered those words something inside him broke, and he had pulled her against him, not only comfort her, but comfort himself as well, he realized, as bizarre as it was, he realized he was relaxing too, feeling her against him, safe and secure in his arms once again. He tried to push away the thoughts, what would have happened if she'd been really bit, could have really done what she'd asked—begged him to do?

God, today—this moment, he knew was going to be with him forever in his dreams, making such _dreams_—he wondered how many times he was going to see her with glazed stark blue eyes, begging him to kill her… he stopped his thoughts, getting tense again—and pushed her a bit off of him.

He was getting closed up, too much—just too much, his heart galloping in his chest—no breath to take…The room started to whirl around him, fast, fastest—and his breath hitch—he couldn't even open his mouth.

Beth had lifted his head up and was watching him—eyes still hazy but more focused—pulling his shirt closer around herself—he had to go—he had to take a breath but he was trapped—no room to escape, nowhere to escape… He was trapped.

He tried to calm himself down—stop the trembling—"Daryl?" she asked him in questions.

"We. gotta findya .somethin'.t'wear," he forced out roughly in one breath before he threw himself out of the exam room.

Outside, the cooler interior hit him, and he felt a bit better—at least as ragged as it was, he was breathing more easily. He started checking the room, hoping to find something for her, because seeing her in his shirt with only her underwear underneath was making it all more difficult and he didn't know why—he just knew he needed to get his shit together and got them outta there, danger looming in his mind.

He needed a plan. Yes, focus on action, focus on plan. Priorities, they got priorities.

She was in some deep shit. She was having a concussion, and had problems differentiate between reality and dreams, which she was experiencing together in her disoriented mind.

She was having a fever too, but they got it covered, no infection, thank god, no infection, but it also meant problem she's got another problem they weren't aware of yet, even another infection perhaps.

And she was also having some internal bleeding that made him now the most worried, one side of her abdomen looked really bad, purple so dark it almost looked black.

In short words, he understood, coming to a conclusion, she needed treatment. It was ironic that the help was so near, just a half of block away, but they could not go there because it was also the reason why she was in her current situation.

Rick had better hurry.

He circled the room, feeling calmer and calmer, and found another pair of clean scrubs left behind, so he treaded back to the exam room. He didn't want to leave her alone for long either as she was getting sleepy quick enough, so he hurried—and—"Hey, Beth!" he shouted at her as silent as possible, seeing her with closed eyes.

He knelt in front of her. "Eyes open."

Nodding slightly, she got them open. "Sorry," she mumbled out.

He showed her the scrubs, "Found ya new ones."

She tried a smile, "Thanks." She took them, and resting her chin down, she gestured, "Mind if I—"

Realizing what she was asking, he quickly turned around.

"How ya feeling?" he asked to the wall. Behind him he could hear shifting of cloth as she put them on.

"Better—I guess," she said, "I still—"

"You need a doctor," he told her cutting off. "This internal bleeding worries me, and you've got some messy concussion. And we ain't know why you have fever. You should be in a hospital."

"It _was_ the hospital that got me like this. You can turn back now," she told him, and he did, seeing her finally with clean clothes and blood washed off, "Can't go back there."

"Rick is coming—"

Her face suddenly lightened up, "Rick? Did you find him?"

He remembered how far she'd been away. For the first time he was glad that she'd been with him, didn't have to suffer with Joe's group, didn't need to go through all that shit with Terminus. He dropped beside her, and rested his head against the wall. "Yeah. It's a long story, but yes, I found him. We all found each other back."

Hope was shining in her eyes now, and it made the world just a bit better place. "We found Judith, too. Carol was with me, too. She left with Noah to bring Rick."

"Noah?" she whispered out, "Noah is here, too? Didn't he leave?"

He shook his head. "No, he was looking for you when we found him. I guess he felt guilt—" He stopped, and gave her a look, "He told us what you did. How you got him out. It was very brave, but stupid."

He could tell her cheeks flushed a bit redder even in the gloom of the room. "Thanks," she muttered, hiding her head.

He shook his head, "It wasn't a compliment. Don't do it again."

Her head snapped at him. "You woulda done the same."

Yeah, he would have, but he didn't feel like telling her that. He would have, but she shouldn't. So he only shrugged off.

"Daryl?" she asked a beat later, "Maggie—is she okay, too? Have you found her?"

He stiffened, and nodded. "Yeah."

Hope shone her eyes brighter. "Isn't she here, too? Or did she leave with Carol?"

He looked at her, unable to tell her anything, suddenly wanting to kick her sister's ass for giving up on her. His silence though was enough for Beth to understand. "Oh," she said, looking at him.

And it broke something inside him. "She—" he started, then stopped, words fleeing from him again.

She shook her head, "It's okay—it's okay. I get it." She gave out a bitter smile with that, a smile that didn't look good on her, didn't belong on her lips. It was acerbic, sour and sharp, nothing like Beth Greene.

His wrists rested on his knees, he started playing with hands, his head bowed in silence. "Daryl—" she finally spoke after a while, "How did you find me?"

He lifted his head at her. "I went to funeral home," he answered simply.

"It was full of walkers," she pointed out.

He shrugged, and gave out "Mm." He picked a hangnail from the side of his thumb, his head still bowed, "Found that handout there at the stand, the one with white cross. You were stuffing it in your backpack before, done seen it, but didn't remember before," he added, his rasping thinning with anger at him again, "Carol recognized the emblem, brought us here Grady."

She was in silence for a while after her was done talking. "You shouldn't blame yourself, Daryl," she then said, "It wasn't your fault. You wouldn't know."

He closed his eyes for a second, and let out a hitch of breath, and confessed. "I didn't check the door." She looked at him in confusion, but this time he knew it wasn't because of her concussion, "I just thought it was the dog, didn't check it first."

"Why?"

Her voice was small when she'd asked, he could barely hear it. The answer was so obvious, so simple, yet, so big, so heavy, he couldn't understand how it could be. The truth was that he simply didn't think of it, didn't think that there would have been walkers out there, or bad people he always feared more than lurkers, for a little while he just _forgot_ in what kind of the world he was living in.

As he stared at her, his own, sardonic, derisive voice from distant past this time asked him, _don't y'all know nothin'?_

His silence again was enough of an answer for her. She stared at him back, then let out another simple "Oh."

* * *

_A/N: Oh, indeed. You know with Daryl Dixon it was love for me at the fist sight, him saying "It's gotta be brain. Don't y'all know nothin'?" I'd laughed so hard at that. Wanted to use it here as well, because I can totally picture him berating himself like that for doing that mistake openning a door without checking out first. I think it says a lot._

_This chapter was a lot of fun writing for me again, hope you enjoyed it._

_Like always, please review :)_


	6. Chapter 6

VI.

_Oh_

The sound left her mouth even before she could realize what she'd done, escaping from her mushy confused brain. For a moment or so she was back again in the kitchen of the that blasted funeral home, and they were sitting together in the candle light, her writing her damn thank you note—_what changed your mind?_ She shook her head a bit, welcoming the drilling beating in her temples to bring her back to the reality. The exam room was gloomily, dim, nothing like soft candle light, she was definitely not writing a thank you note but inclinations were still there, hanging in the air in the silence with the simple breathed out "oh"s. This time it was even worse too, because there was that tightness in her chest, a heaviness weighting on her, and for a minute later she recognized it.

Guilt, a shameful, sticky, heavy guilt.

She was such a big fool that she'd even turned to Daryl Dixon an idiot. They should really give her a prize for that. Just a bit more than week with her, and she'd turned the most capable man she'd ever known stupid.

_Stupid gets you killed,_ she heard them say a lot. And it did, they could not tolerate being stupid. The world had no longer those kind of luxuries, making bad decisions, stupid mistakes.

She let out another bitter smile, world darkening around her a bit more. "Guess we're both suckers, huh?" she slowly rasped out. Writing thank you notes, opening the doors without checking first…

He shrugged in his patented way, one shoulder lifting idly in that devil-may-care way, but she knew it was an act. She'd known it for a long time, since the door of their barn had opened and that little girl had come out after her mom, but she understood better after the prison fell. He always acted like he didn't care, but she knew defense mechanism when she knew one. She knew it from herself, from her own bullshit, how she couldn't even opened her backpack. Hurt was a part of the package, and figure she was right again. Zach was dead, her father was dead, prison—another home had been taken from her, and here she was sitting with a concussion in her head next to Daryl Dixon, feeling guilty because of making him stupid with her songs, with her candles, with her hope… _Holidays, birthdays, summer picnics, that was how incredibly stupid I was…_

Dawn was right. She was the biggest fool in the earth. The feeling though didn't make her any feel any better, but only more pissed—she was what she was, had always been. Was she supposed to feel bad about it? They'd tried to make her choose between two evils, and she preferred not to choose at all. She preferred not to play along, didn't buy their justifications, didn't buy their pretexts for their selfish decisions.

_And you paid for it,_ she told herself, _you paid for it dearly._ A shudder passed over her spine as she remembered Daryl's sharp, short hitch of breath every time he thought he saw something at her skin. Admitting defeat now felt like letting Dawn win, that she was right about her all along. Maybe the older woman _was_ right, maybe she was a fool, but she didn't care. She wasn't gonna let her win. Not this time.

She looked at Daryl, trying to focus her eyes at his in seriousness. It wasn't easy but she got it, she looked at him in the eyes directly. "I'm gonna get outta here alive, Daryl," she promised him with all the seriousness she could muster up in her condition, trying not to slur the words, "If nothing else, then just to spite her."

The somber look in his eyes gone, Daryl gave her a smile, lips slowly parting, small but earnest. It was a rare sight to see, he was a creature of scowls, glares and grunts, but seldom smiles. But now when he did, the crow feet over his eyes grow deeper, the blue of his eyes shone a bit shade brighter, lighting his face. He looked young. "You do that, girl," he told her back with a low chuckle.

It was incredible. For a sudden, she found herself smiling back at him a little, wondering how old he exactly was. She didn't know, never thought of it before, never _bothered_ to. He was always just Daryl Dixon, the aggressive restrained ragged man that camped at the end of their farm, having that swagger and that keen glare that told you clearly keep the hell away off. Later, he ended up being a sort of protector to their group, a man everyone always depended on, always taken for granted. Funny that she'd never cared to ask before. Trying to figure out of his job, his old life was just a guessing game Zach had liked to play out of boredom.

"Daryl, how old are you?" she asked, surprising even herself a bit asking it so. God, she really must have some concussion.

He must have felt the same, too, because his face snapped up at her, giving a wry look, suspicion pulling his brows together. "Why do you ask?"

She shrugged. "I just realized I really don't know a thing about you. You saved me a couple of times out in the wild, you found me in this shithole, and I don't know even your favorite color. It feels _wrong_."

He gave a silent look, then said, "I like black."

She let out a soft laugh. "Very creative." She bumped at his knee with hers lightly, "Come on, we gotta talk, keep me awake. Tell me. Sure you're not _that_ old."

She'd meant it as a joke, but it just came out wrong, it just did. He cast a glance at her in silence, the air stretching between them as if a live thing, tensed and stringed. "I'm old _enough_," he grunted, almost in a warning…of what she wasn't exactly sure, and turned his head ahead.

Thoughts whirling in her fogged mind, she stole a side look, his profile under the gloom looking perplexed as he kept looking ahead. He was a handsome man; _that_ she had noticed before, of course. Strong jawline, deep keen eyes, decisive brows, rough the edges even before their life style had taken its heavy toll on them, but they all were adding a certain charisma to him, something feral, barely contained, an edgy vigor oozing out of him, something very…manly. There was also this affection between them, that platonic tenderness, enough to get him comfort her just seconds ago—caressing her hair… And all in honesty it made her feel a bit—special…because it was Daryl Dixon… and he didn't do any _like damn romance novel_, right? He didn't comfort, didn't hold you tight in your arms while you cried…

She stopped her thoughts. She was being a fool again. Whatever was that thing between them, it almost got him killed. Her foolishness would have killed him. It already hurt him enough to make him search for her in this godforsaken dead city because of guilt. She knew how much he hated it. He'd already confessed to her how tired he had become losing people, hell, he'd even screamed at her when they'd had that fight in the cabin. Her father had asked her what was the point in living if you didn't have hope, but look where her hopes brought her at the end? The bottom of an open grave… And her father was dead, brutally taken from her, her sister—her only family left had given up on her, writing her off as dead.

She should've been mad, should've been outraged, despaired, she would've never—_never_ given upon Maggie—but she _was_ a fool, and Maggie wasn't. Maggie was a survivor.

She shook her head defiantly, welcoming the pain once again. She was a survivor, too. They were all wrong. She'd made it, she had made it this long, and she was going to stay alive. She'd quite put her mind on it. They _all_ would see. She remembered her words. If nothing else, then just to spite Dawn, at all costs.

The sun had finally set outside, making inside the exam room darker— at the same time she understood, "We really need to get back to hospital, don't we?" she asked.

Gloomily, Daryl nodded, and repeated, "You need a doctor."

Decisively, she nodded back. "What do you plan then?" she asked because she knew, because she just knew even when sitting here with her idly he was formulating a plan, evaluating his changes how to take her back there.

Never one to disappoint, Daryl gave her a look, and simply answered, "When Rick comes in the morning, we storm into there, get the doctor and haul his ass back here."

Shaking her head, Beth smiled. "No. I got a better plan."

# # #

Clear as fuck something was going with her, some serious shit that he wasn't no damn sure if he liked or not. She looked better now, her eyes were more focused as if she'd pulled herself together, her words were less slurred, but now there was that look in her eyes he again wasn't sure if he liked or not.

And he pissed him off a great deal. He _was_ worried. They'd got no time for that shit, he was supposed to be at his perfect game, but here he was worrying… not because she was having a concussion, a fever and internal bleeding, or because she'd been so close to get infected, not because she gave him a heart attack every time she looked like she was passing out, skin ghostly pale, but no, he was worried because there was _something_ in her eyes.

God, he was seriously getting old for this shit.

_Old_.

His shoulders tensed, his jaw settling with a grimace. One moment she made that sound again, a perfect oval shape of full lips blowing an oh, understanding clear over her expression, realizing again she was the reason for it, calling them both quite adequately suckers—with that acerbic tone he didn't like, then some shit happened, she told him she would get outta here, trying to look all serious as much as she could, even if only to spite that bitch, then looking at him as if he'd seen him the first time she asked how old he was…

What the fuck that meant?

He could see her swinging from one emotion to the other rapidly, being an open person she was clearly showing off her emotions all over her face—making things much harder for him.

Why the hell she'd asked how old he was? He had no fucking idea how her mind was working now, confused and heavily drugged, but indications were grating his nerves further on the edge. He knew one thing though, clear as the sky. He was old, old _enough_ for her.

Then as if it was not _already_ enough—something else happened with her, she suddenly confirmed to ask if they really needed to get back to the hospital, getting all business, because yeah, they damn sure needed to—and then told him she got a better plan.

As if! His plan had been quite simple, really. Wait for Rick, then get their ass all busted, haul the doctor's ass back here and have him check her in the clinic. Not very clear-cut, but effective all the same. They got intel, they knew weak points and entrances and egresses, and they also knew the doctor's routine. The clinic here was still operational too, they could manage it.

But Beth—no Beth had other ideas; more detailed, more calculative, more canny, almost scheming. In the small exam room, under dim light, he paced agitatedly, back and forth, chewing what she'd said in his mind…feeling like he was gonna explode. "Talk to me again—" he barked out, turning to her, "How's it a better plan?"

"We kill Dawn."

"Can do too with mine," he pointed out. He was gonna do it regardless which plan, _period_. After all the stuff she'd caused Beth to suffer, that bitch was dead walking. "Will do it no matter what. That bitch ain't got no other chance."

Her look heavy look found his eyes, searching. "Yeah." She paused again, and continued, "Mine is more precise, less bloodshed."

"You're talking about mutiny."

"There's still people there, Daryl," she said then, "people held by force, against their will. I want to save them, too, if I can."

He grunted out, but felt a heaviness lifting off his chest, that was the Beth knew—the stubborn, fierce girl who cared, who still managed to keep her faith despite everything in this fucking world. He liked that Beth. He also realized he wanted that Beth back, too, not this version of her with bitter, sour smiles, but his Beth, who had sung for him before he slept in a coffin…

He stopped his thoughts. _Don't you really know nothin', Dixon?_

He was a damn fool. He cleared his throat, and asked, "How're ya sure we can trust that woman?" he asked, because it didn't look like if they could.

She shrugged. "Shepherd wants to get rid of Dawn, very badly. She was afraid if she did something, another would get in Dawn's place. She was pressing me to get rid of him."

He frowned, not liking where this conversation going. "Get rid of him how?" he asked.

A look passed over her face again, before she shrugged again, running her eyes from him. A grimace added to his frown as he pressed his lips into a thin line. He was _not_ fucking like where this conversation was going. "Well, you know, get into his room, entertain him a while then slit his throat." She raised her arm with the cast, and pulled the tip of a scissor she'd had there inside.

His blood turned cold. "D-did you?" he roughed out. She said Dawn had wanted to kill her, but they couldn't get to the point for explanations. Perhaps that was the reason _why_ Dawn had tried to kill her. Because she had been trying to kill his man…

She shook her head, making it much easier for him to breathe again. Even the notion of something like this—thinking of her like that nauseated him, sickening him to his stomach. "No," she said tersely, "I'd defend myself if he tried something like Gorman did, but he never did. My passiveness angered Dawn, she was waiting for me to deal with the man like how dealt with Gorman for her—so she could keep her hands clean. When I didn't kill O'Donnell—she threw me off."

_O'Donnell?_ "Wait a minute—" He walked closer to her at the corner, and looked down at her, "The man—his name is O'Donnell?"

She gave a vague nod. "Yeah. Why?"

"When we found Noah, he was trying to run away panicked," he explained. "Dawn, another officer, and the doctor were at the rooftop. The officer pulled a gun at Dawn, but she deflected at the last moment. They fought. The man was about to kill her, but the doctor threw him off the rooftop before he could. Noah mentioned his name, O'Donnell. He's dead."

She was silent for a while, looking at him, but she was lost in her own thoughts. "So she got him do it," she mumbled out.

Daryl felt like his own head was gonna explode. "Who?"

She waved an idle hand. "Don't matter. It's even better for us, O'Donnell might get things complicated for us," she said off-handedly, and continued, "My point is there was a reason why they wanted _me_ to deal with O'Donnell, they didn't want to kill one of their own. But if now Dawn did it, Shepherd has the upper hand, and she knows that Dawn will come after her for the next. If we give her a chance to keep her hands clean dealing with Dawn, Shepherd will take it. Believe me, she will."

He cupped his chin, rubbing his beard in consideration. She had a good, valid point. Every mutiny in history almost always had a help from outside. "Besides, we storm into the hospital," she pressed on, lying her case fully, "it'd get Dawn rally her people behind her again. You'd give her a common enemy to fight back, a reason to unite, facing with an outsider threat."

He was staring at her, almost open-mouthed. How she got this good with—politics. "D'ya think all these now?" With a concussion, he might add, but he kept that to himself. She looked more alert now caught in the moment, and he didn't want to get her attention back to her wounds.

With a little sigh, she shrugged. "I noticed things back there—" She gestured with her head back, "I watched, I listened. A lot." She gave him a rueful smile, almost tired, _"Signs are all there, you just gotta notice 'em, _right?_"_

She _had_ listened, indeed. _I'm getting good at this. Pretty soon I won't need you at all._

The words seemed now a like self-fulfilled prophecy. She'd gotten through schemers, deflected rape attempts, survived a murder attack, managed to get herself out of that open grave to the safety all by herself. She wasn't no dead girl. She took care of herself like she'd declared, and he was more than glad, so then what was that thing in his chest, squeezing his heart—as if—as if he was—disappointed?

He dropped himself on the floor across her, putting a distance themselves. _Pretty soon I won't need you at all…_ But she did, he reminded himself. She must have gotten herself out of that scheming rattlesnakes' hive, but she was almost gone when he had found her—at the edge—out of her mind… She still needed him. There was a relief in that conviction, but he wasn't sure what that meant exactly, either. So he instead he focused on what needed to be done, the plan. "How d'ya know to plan to talk with her?" he asked, and gave her a look, a sudden terror in him, "D'ya know you can't come with us, right?"

She looked at him. He shook his head. "Nah. No way. You can barely walk. Besides, we need to talk to her _beforehand_."

She heaved a sigh out. "We—we might lure her out…" She shrugged off, "I haven't thought of that part yet." She chewed her bottom lip in thoughts, "We—might make a ruse close to the block. Dawn will send her to check out. You can grab her there, bring her here to talk."

He mulled it out, playing with a finger along his lips, and pointed it at her. "How d'ya sure she will send Shepherd?"

"Oh, she will," she answered, smiling one of those sardonic smiles, "Every step out in the city is a risk. If there's some small chance that Shepherd might get bit on the duty, not be a problem anymore, Dawn won't overlook it."

Well, that answered his question, he guessed.

They fell into silence after then, she turning her attention outside, checking darkening sky outside through the shutters at the window. "All this to get Dr. Edwards," she said after a while, looking back to him, "You know what's funny? I tried to kill him, the doctor, I wanted him dead, now I need _him_ to stay alive," she deadpanned. "God has a funny sense of humor, doesn't he?"

He looked at her, not surprised anymore seeing that rueful bitter smile on her lips, and _yes_, God-if he was real, he got some damn sense of humor. "He used me to kill someone else," she explained, "One day they brought another doctor. He got afraid if there was another doctor around, he would lose his value, his own privilege. So he wanted the man gone, but being the coward as he's, he got me do it. He made me to give the man the wrong medicine. Dawn was _so_ pissed. Noah covered it for me, got beaten pretty badly instead of me."

He bowed his head, and started playing with his hands, arms loosely rested on his knees. "Why didn't ya?" he asked with a small voice.

She shrugged. "I don't know, Daryl. First I thought my father—thought he wouldn't have wanted me a cold-blooded killer—then I thought if I killed him, then Dawn would've killed _me_ too. And I didn't want to die." She stopped and looked at him, her eyes now glistening with unshed tears, "Does it still make a good person?"

Looking back at her, he told her the truth. "I know the difference between bad and good, Beth. If you killed him, he woulda gotten what he deserved, the world's got a way to even things out and I wouldn't have lost no sleep over it." He paused then for a second, before he added, "But to have you still breathing means letting him live, I'd keep the bastard alive for thousand years no matter what."

She stared at him across the room, her eyes fixated on his, but this time she didn't make any noises.

* * *

_A/N: Well, this chapter was hard to right, keeping Beth and Daryl both intact and in character but as the time evolving, because it's a journey, right? Some serious happened with them, so they cannot stay same, they need to change, but still be in character...so I'm particularly curious to hear what you think._

_And do we know for sure how old Daryl is supposed to be? I think at the first time he was around his mid-thirties-but that makes Rick younger than him, and it doesn't fit very well with their interaction, right? I think mid-thirties at the Season 5 is much more suited for him._

_Anyways...be seeing you...with the next chapter, in which the action finally starts, and Rick and Co. make their entrances._


	7. Chapter 7

VII.

It was getting late, moon had raised high in the sky behind a thick fog, air getting colder, or she was just shivering with her fever. She could not know for sure, and Daryl wasn't the type to let it show been bothered by the cold weather. He'd put his flannel shirt on back under the angle wing west, looking tense and rigid but not cold.

They'd lapsed another silence after their last talk, after his last remark—confession, but she didn't want to think anymore, it just made things harder for both of them, she could see. She could observe. There was that stiffness across his shoulders, his neck strained—his jaw set in, his brows pulled with an invisible frown under his bowed head, playing with his hands. It reminded her their first night they'd been on the run after they'd escaped the prison, the desolation of him—and it pained her seeing him like this, weighted down by guilt and worry.

She turned her look aside at outside, watching the faint moonlight through the shutters. _I'm alive, and drunk…drunk on moonlight…_ The stars and moonlight seemed to wane in the dead city as well, not as bright as in the wilderness. How she wished to be in the open wild now, how alive she'd felt in the woods then, happy and elevated. Now she only felt alive by pain, the constant drilling through her temples, and a nauseating feeling was building up deep inside her stomach, making it all sick—sick with guilt, despair, and regret.

They said it got easier, this was the way of the things were now, but it didn't get it any easier. Something retched in her—so hard—she opened her mouth and started hurling…

Daryl was up at his feet at the moment—rushing towards her. He skid to a halt and dropped on his knees beside her, reaching out to her carefully. "Hey—you okay?" he asked with a soft rasp, bending over her, concern evident in his tone. Then his eyes fell on her, and his look turned stone, his eyes fixed at her shirt's necklace.

She titled her head down, and looked at bile she'd vomited, yellowish sogginess—smeared with red… Her breath hitched, blood, she'd started vomiting blood. She lifted her head up and looked at Daryl, who stared at her, worry turning his face to stark, his skin as grey as ash.

And it hurt her, seeing him like this, just hurt so much. Hurt is a part of the package, she reminded herself, and lightly held his hand by fingertips, a soft touch, barely making contact. Just to remind him that she was still here, still enduring, "I'm okay, Daryl", she told him, "I'm okay."

In silence, he nodded, settled himself beside her on the floor. She pulled her hand back and adjusted herself against the wall, forcing herself to focus again something other than somber, depressed musings in her head. They made her go away inside, rest down and weep her heart out, but they didn't get to do that. They weren't allowed, and she'd already lost it once, she was not going to do it. She had to keep the thoughts away from her. It was hard not to dwell on such thoughts though, darkness outside calling at her. She remembered the night they'd passed inside the trunk—terror deep in their stomach, moonlight cracking through the rusting metal—hands clutched on their blades, not daring even to make a soft sound—each breath a risk. She shook herself slightly. She _should_ stop thinking now! Seriously!

She wandered her eyes around. "I think I saw some cards in one of the desk drawers," she said then, remembering.

His head snapped at hers. "What?" he roughed out, eyeing at her hawkishly.

She shrugged. She needed something to keep her minds off away from her dark thoughts. Playing cards seemed to her enough—safe, no past talks, no truth or dare, no drinking games. She just wanted a simple thing, not worrying if she pressed on the wrong buttons. Just a simple thing, she wondered if there was such a thing left in the world anymore. "I need something to focus on," she explained, gesturing with her head vaguely.

Understanding, he simply nodded, and stood up. He started to roam in the room. She was sure she had seen a deck of cards while she was rummaging around, but she wasn't sure if it was in this room or somewhere else. She didn't need to wonder long though because two minutes later he straightened up from the desk he was bent over, holding a deck in his left hand, victorious.

He shook it at her. "Got it."

He stalked back to her with long steps, and sat in front of her. "So whaddya wanna play?" he asked.

She thought of it for a moment, and offered, "Slapjack?" It was a silly thing, not including too much of anything but simply throwing a couple of cards, and slapping Jacks.

Daryl, though, chuckled low in his throat. "What?" she asked, her voice thinning a tone down, "In case you don't notice I'm not up for Poker."

He gave her a look. "D'ya know how to play?" he asked.

She scoffed, "Not exactly my point."

He chuckled out again in answer.

"Just shuffle the damn thing, Dixon."

He raised his arms a little in the air, palms open at her before he did so as she had ordered, a half of a smile tugged at his lips. Again, she was struck how younger he looked with it, but she shook herself out of it, instead gave her attention back at the cards there were piled up in front of her.

After he dealt the cards, he placed open one in the middle of them, and pointed at her. "You go first."

She obliged, adjusting herself closer towards the cards, readying herself to act if she hit a Jack, and threw off the first card at the top of her pile, ignoring the drilling in her head, the lurching in her stomach or the heat in her veins, but only focusing at the cards. They went on playing for a few seconds or so before the first Jack hit in the middle. With a quick hand she reached out and placed her hand over it, and gave him a look with a sly smile.

She took the next one, too, and smiled wider. "Come on, where's your reflexes, Mr. Dixon?"

He shrugged, throwing another card down. A few minutes later, she hit another and claimed it again, their fingertips briefly touching at each other over the edge. She felt a tingle passed through them, but she decided to overlook it, frowning. "Hey," she called him out, "are you letting me win?"

Because it really looked like he was—_letting_ her slap the cards before he even reached out. He again shrugged. "Nah… you're good at it, that's all."

She shook her head, "You're full of bullshit, Daryl Dixon," she told him, placing another card down.

He gave her a silent look, but didn't comment, just threw his card down, which happened to be another Jack. She made a quick move but before she could reach, his hand was already on the top of the pile in the middle, hers falling on the top of his.

She lifted her eyes at his, looking at him as he did the same, their hands motionless on the top of each other, still. She gulped in silence as he stared at her with that silent look, deep, heavy, keen, like he was willing her something she wasn't sure what—then his eyes slid downwards her lips… her heart skipped a beat—the drill in her temples pressing—blood drumming inside her ears— she watched him drawing closer an inch—so slowly—so slowly like it took ages— then a panic she couldn't understand seize her like it had never happened before, a sheer panic—a scare she'd never known before—not even facing the walkers at the first time—not even while she'd been lying in that open grave of dead corpses, it ruled over her body—deep in her stomach—whirling in her like a maelstrom— Darly Dixon was going to kiss her, and it felt like she was in the middle of a vortex, drowning in—then she couldn't help it.

She threw up.

# # #

What the fuck?

What the fuckiest fuck?

He pulled back, his hand in front of him, glowing with yellowish puke, red still smearing through it—"Sorry—" she mumbled out, unshed fat tears shining in her eyes, "I'm so sorry."

He shook his head. "'s okay," he roughed out, trying to even his breath.

What the hell just happened? He had no idea. He just got into the moment, his hand under hers, looking at her, not pulling it as he should have been, the air tense and restrained between them, and he found himself moving toward her—unable to stop himself like he was a puppet with strings, they were pulled toward, he was drawn to her like a moth to a frame—and his eyes on her lips, then she threw up.

He was about to kiss Beth Greene, and she _literally_ had thrown up on him.

He pulled his other bandana, and started wiping his hand. She pulled back against the wall, her eyes still watered, looking more shocked than him, and as pale as smoke. The sight of her made the anger and confusion and bitterness inside him dissipate. He was about to kiss her—while she fought for her life, he tried to kiss her. God, how stupider he would get than this?

God, he needed a drink. He needed a smoke.

He threw the bandana at her, and stalked out of the room.

With trembling hands, he lit a cigarette at the threshold of the door, still watching over her with corner of his eyes. He wished he could take a breath out or beat the hell outta some walkers, he was getting closed up, started feeling trapped again—but he could not, he couldn't leave her alone like this—he couldn't even get away from the door a few feet off in fears that she could close her eyes or pass out again.

She was getting worse. She'd started vomiting blood too, her bleeding must have gotten worse, nausea had started hitting her.

And he'd tried to kiss her, he goddamn tried to kiss her like some old pervert.

He blew a drag of his cigarette, welcoming the keen aroma of nicotine into his veins, clearing off the cobwebs of his brains. He needed Rick. Like now. He was getting out of his depth here. He was a lone wolf, a rough, tough son of a bitch, but he couldn't deal with this. He had no idea how.

If Rick was here, he could—He stopped his thoughts.

If Rick was _here_—Rick was going to come. He knew he would. He trusted the man. Carol wrote to him and he couldn't leave—not without waiting him like Carol had asked—but how exactly Rick was going to find them?

Because he'd left the damn building across the Grady out of his mind when he'd seen Beth—

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck… FUCK!

He was really the dumbest son of a bitch had ever lived. Out of his mind, he'd just left the building. They had no idea where he and Beth were now.

He turned aside, snuffing off the cigarette on the wall and started walking inside. She was rested against the wall, her head looking up, her eyes half drooped, but still open. "We have a problem," he announced, looking down at her.

She gave out a tired smile, eyes still facing at upside, "Ya think?"

He inhaled sharply, "I left the building when I saw ya outside—didn't leave anything behind. Rick—Carol—they don't know where we're."

She tilted her head down, and looked at him. He waited her to yell at him, call him stupid, a sucker again because that was what he damn was, the biggest sucker in the world, but she didn't do any of those things, she only nodded with a small sigh. "Okay, I'll wait here. You go there."

He grimaced. "I ain't gonna leave ya," he bit.

"It's okay." He shook his head, "You have to," she insisted.

He walked closer to her and bent over her folded figure, "I said I ain't gonna leave ya!" He wasn't never gonna leave her again! How could she even ask that?

She shook her head, tears still at bay, "I'll be—okay," she mumbled out.

He straightened up, muttering, "Says the girl who just puked all over me…"

"Daryl…" she whispered out.

"What?" he barked out, "You ain't well, Beth, you barely keep it up. I ain't gonna leave ya like this. I won't," he said with finality in his voice, "Don't fight with me."

She let out a sigh, and nodded in agreement, thanks god for small mercies. "What are we gonna do then?"

"The building complex has a view of the clinic, that's how I saw you outside. If we let them know somehow now we're here…" he mused out.

"How?" she asked, but her words dangerously slurred out, her eyes once again losing focus.

"Hey—eyes open!" he warned, "I'm thinking on it. Ya just talk to me."

"Talk to you what?"

"For the moment, Beth, as long as you do, I don't care."

She laughed out, a faint sound much close to a sob than a laugh, "You know how to make a girl all special, Mr. Dixon."

He grunted out. Well, excuse his ass but he was the one he got puked over. "Your vest," she then said, pointing at the said item on him.

"What about it?" he asked, frowning.

"Just hang it out up at there, and they'll see then recognize it—the angel wings…"

Chuckling out, he pulled out the vest. "You're a genius, Greene."

"I know…"

He knelt down in front of her. "Come, we're going together to the door," he said, grabbing her, and hoisted her up in his arms.

"I can wait here-" she protested, but he shook his head.

"No," he simply answered, "Ya coming with me."

Understanding she couldn't win this time, or maybe she saw his point this, she stopped protesting. He stopped beside the exit door. He checked out the dead walkers, and rested her beside the wall next the door. Once again he knelt between her legs. "I'll hang this at the balcony in front of the building. It's the clearest view. But you're gonna keep talking, 'kay?" He grabbed her neck gently and made her look at him, "I wanna hear yer voice all the time, 'kay?"

She shook her head, "I don't wanna talk—" she murmured, "Makes me sad. Makes me stupid."

"Then sing. You still sing?"

Unfocused eyes found his. "Yeah, I still sing."

He leaned down and brushed his lips across her forehead, "Stay awake," he whispered in her ear.

Slowly, not making a sound, he opened the door and, and climbed on the window outside to the balcony at second floor, then her soft whispering singing came to him— _"High in the halls of the kings who are gone; Jenny would dance with her ghosts, the ones she had lost and the ones she had found, and the ones who had loved her the most..."_

It must be one of the dumbest shits he'd ever done in his life after the turn, damn sure at the top three, making her sing for him, possibly calling all rotters at themselves, but he didn't care. He just couldn't leave her there without hearing her voice—he just couldn't. Only for a few minutes… if there would be walkers, he was gonna have t'deal with them. He just could… not…

_"The ones who'd been gone for so very long...she couldn't remember their names..." _the song continued from below, a haunting sorrowful melody he couldn't just place, but the words somehow familiar, _"They spun her around on the damp old stones, spun away all her sorrow and pain..."_

A walker snarled at his feet at the balcony, hanging in rails as he hung his vest on the window… _"And she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave__..." _His hands stopped as he knelt down, holding the neck of the dead trying to clutch at him, "a_nd she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave__..." _ he stabbed the undead in the eyes.

Straightened up, cast off stone, he listened to the song, a soft caress in the night, _"They danced through the day, and into the night through the snow that swept through the hall, and she never wanted to leave, never wanted to leave... __never...wanted...leave..." _then the melodic words came to a slow, dragged halt, and the world around him fell in a dead silence.

He dropped himself out of the balcony on the ground, and threw himself inside, skidding toward her over the floor. "Beth! Beth!" he roughed out, taking her in embrace.

Her eyes slowly fluttered open, but they were out of the focus— "Daryl, you gotta tell her-you gotta tell her—" she whispered.

"Tell her what?" he rasped out, blinking out tears.

"Tell her I say _hi_—" Her hands rose and touched at his cheek, "I'll see you again," she promised, "This isn't a goodbye."

He nodded, hot tears running across his cheeks, "Good. I hate goodbyes."

She smiled at him before she passed out.

_# # #_

When Rick found them in the morning, Beth was still in his arms, limp and listless across his lap, her head gently rested across his chest as his arms loosely draped over her torso, his fingers tightly closed around her left wrists, feeling each scar across her skin, each beat against his fingertips, an slowly beating anchor tying to her to the world. It was faint, out of order—but it was still there, all night, his beacon in the darkness. She was fighting—with tooth and nail, she was hanging in at the end of a thread, she was enduring.

Carol wrapped her arms across herself, bowing her head, her eyes already teared up. Noah was openly crying. Tyrell and Sasha followed, then Glenn. Seeing the man with the corner of his eyes, Daryl lifted his head as Rick turned aside and looked behind Glenn. Behind him was Maggie, standing at the threshold, just beside them, looking down, and a shrill of scream tearing out of her as she fell on her knees on the ground.

Falling beside him, Glenn pulled her against him, pressing her mouth against his shoulder, silencing her screams.

"She ain't dead," Daryl said then, looking at them, "Not yet."

* * *

_A/N: So, I hope you don't hate me making Beth puke all over Daryl, he he :) If they just kissed, where's fun in that? Hmm?_

_Thank you so much for the response for the last chapter, made a girl all happy! I'm always happy to hear what you think._

_The song Beth sings is changed now, it's Jenny of Oldstones from Game of Thrones. Thought it suits her and the story's prose much better than Lana Del Rey. Besides, a huge Game of Thrones fan here I am. :)_


	8. Chapter 8

VIII.

Maggie's shrilling scream ruined their reunion, the stunned silence between them breaking with the snarls and moans from outside. Rick shot a glance outside at the windows.

"Move!" he barked out as silent as possible, gesturing with his hand his behind. Daryl hoisted Beth up again and led the way towards the exam room back. Beth had swept the floor they were at first, and Daryl had made sure it was as secure as possible after he came, but his shenanigans outside at the balcony, making her sing made a security breach. He'd dealt a couple of times walker during the rest of the night, not letting her a few feet away from her—desperate not to think what he would've done if the clinic had been overrun, and they'd forced to leave— No, they couldn't leave. They simply couldn't leave. _And she never wanted to leave… _he remembered her song. She didn't want to leave, so they hadn't left, they'd stayed, and waited.

He could feel Maggie's stare still on him, and with a side glance he saw her eyes glued on her sister's limp form in his arms. Glenn and Rick were checking out the hall, barricading the door with a desk behind them. Carol whispered at him as he walked back into the exam room. "How did you find her?"

He gently placed Beth at the corner where they'd been playing Slapjack, the cards still scattered around, smudged with her vomit. "What happened to her?" Maggie asked fiercely, demanding an answer as the same time he straightened up, resting her on the floor.

He felt his blood on fire. He didn't have her time for her shit. _Beth_ didn't have time for her shit. It mad anger stir in his blood seeing the older man woman like this now, as if she cared for her little sister, as if she hadn't given up on Beth. "Didn't ya go to save the world?" he snarled at her. Not that he really wanted to know or care, but he'd guessed they would have already left after Daryl had left the church. Rick would have waited for him, but that redhead jarhead wouldn't, he'd noticed. The man had taken the job bringing the odd guy to DC as his life purpose. He wouldn't let a little diversion for a girl hinder his mission, and he supposed Maggie would have gone with him.

Directing her heated eyes, Maggie shot at him a glare, but it was Carol who answered him, "They came back in the morning before we left," Carol explained, "It was a rouse. There's no cure. Eugene lied."

So then she'd _really_ left. And so the cure was a lie. It didn't matter to him though, not as much as a fuck, not when Beth was fighting for her life. He'd never believed in it for real anyways. There was no going back. Not that he had _something_ to go back, either. His eyes reverted to Beth, and for the moment he understood with a perfect clarity given the chance, he'd have chosen this life over his old life, despite everything. It sounded like the most fucked up thing in the world, but it was still the truth. _I was nobody…_ he remembered his own words. With his group, with Beth, he was at least something, even though he didn't know what that _something_ was.

"He wanted to get himself to D.C," Carol explained further, taking his silence for further interest, "He thought his chances would be better there, and lied being a scientist," then asked him again, "How did you find her?"

"I _didn't_," Daryl snipped. She'd found him, not the other way around. "We ain't got no time for this," he continued, "She's wounded pretty bad."

Rick and Glenn walked back into the room just at that moment. "What happened to her?" Rick voiced out Maggie's inquiry, but this time Daryl obliged.

"You talked to Noah?" he asked back, to see how much Rick knew. The other man nodded. "He said some police kidnapped her and was forcing her to stay."

Daryl nodded. "Dawn tried to kill her," Daryl said then, searching the other man's face for recognition at the name. There was no confusion over his Rick's expression, a sight Daryl welcomed it, "Threw her off an elevator shaft."

"The elevator shaft?" Noah exclaimed beside them, understanding what he was talking about. "Why?" Maggie questioned at the same time.

"We ain't got no time for this," Daryl repeated, grunting, "She's got a concussion, a fever, and internal bleeding. She needs to get back to Grady."

They all looked at him with bafflement. "We thought we're getting her out of there," Tyrese remarked after a moment.

Daryl shrugged off again. "She got herself out," he said, "But she needs a doctor."

"So what we do?" Maggie asked.

Daryl gave them a look, and answered simply, "We take the hospital."

# # #

Beth's plan was a good one, an idea that would work if only they had time. But as Daryl had told his company a few times in the last half of an hour, they didn't _fucking_ have time. Each minute they passed with bickering over the plans, she neared to the edge a step closer.

Some adjustments had to be made. They had to improvise. Carol had Beth's pulse now as Maggie had her lolled aside head on her lap as Beth lay sprawled out listlessly on the floor. Maggie and Carol were monitoring her as the rest of them were circled around a crude plan of the hospital that they'd drawn on the floor with a piece of chalk. "Beth said the woman will side with us, she was damn sure of it," he told them, and shifting aside, asked Noah, "Whaddya think?"

Noah was their source of information, and he hope to hell that the skinny boy was observant as Beth. He gave Daryl a half shrug, "I know she doesn't like Dawn, but she was afraid of doing anything. There was also O'Donnell problem."

"She wanted Beth to deal with O'Donnell," Daryl told him back.

"Ah," the younger man huffed, "Well, that made sense. Yeah, then… she might go with it," he said slowly, "But I wouldn't trust her if I were you."

As if _he_ needed the boy to tell him that. Daryl grunted. The others had a vague expression over their face, watching at him with wry eyes, loaded with speculation but they stayed in silence. Daryl knew what those looks meant clear as hell, but played the fool. He had no desires to get in the feels with the group, and the group knew better than to try to question him. Aside Maggie, and probably Carol, the only person who would have done that talk was Rick—but the older man knew better than tried to talk to him right now, Carol would have wanted to catch him alone, and he had not a damn care of what Maggie would have told him. His only concern now was Beth's safety, the rest he would deal with later. He looked down and stared at the plans, motioning at Noah, "Show me where's doctor's office," he demanded.

Noah pointed the left side of the sketch with the tip of his fingers. "Shepherd's?" he asked then.

Noah showed somewhere close by. "'kay, here is the plan," he started, "Maggie and Tyreese stay with Beth." On their own accounts, his eyes skipped toward Beth again. The sight tightened his chest again, seeing her like that, his breath squeezing, and he had to remind himself that she was still alive, she was still hanging in, and they had to hurry.

He willed his eyes away from her, and looked at Rick. "We fire a shot into the air first," he started, "That'd get onlookers away from their posts, and they send people to check out. Beth was sure that Dawn would send Shepherd. We all get inside from the parking lot. Me and Noah wait for Shepherd there, you move on. They're at the fifth floor." He tapped his finger at the upper side of the plan, "Noah will tell you the way."

"Better if we take him with us," Rick told him, but Daryl shook his head.

"Nah… I need him talking to Shepherd. She won't believe us unless she sees someone she knows."

Rick grimaced, but nodded. "All right then," he said, and started giving directions, like always curt and direct to the point, "We're doing it quiet, silencer and knives before Daryl comes with Shepherd, then we fan out—take the hospital." He looked at Noah, too, "How many people would back up Shepherd?"

"Gorman and O'Donnell gone, there're twelve policemen now, she could have at least half of them—but—" Noah hesitated, shifting a look between him and Rick, "Licari—he could be a problem. He's O'Donnell's buddy. You must deal with him first. Shepherd then could get a leash on her own people."

Daryl lifted his eyes at Rick. "If we kill Dawn before anything else," Daryl supplied, "it'd go smoother." Less bloodshed, like how Beth demanded.

"If not-?" Tyreese asked back, cutting in, and pointed out, "They got the numbers, one to two. Even if Shepherd's with us, you're barely evened out."

Daryl snapped his head at the bigger man. "So?" he asked, staring at him. If he needed to kill every son of a bitch inside that hospital aside the doctor, he was gonna do it. His plan was simple as hell, in fact. Do what you must do to get the doctor. If it wasn't Beth, he would've just stormed off there. They might not get the numbers, but they had element of surprise. They got better fighters who lived through a constant hell for two years, too. Those scums couldn't deal with them. Even Terminus understood they'd screw up with the wrong kind of people at the end.

"Wards?" Rick asked, turning back to Noah, mulling over that Tyreese had said, "Will they side with us?" he asked.

Noah shrugged. "I don't know. Some of them. Some are like us, like Joan. The others, they're afraid. They want to feel safe. They wouldn't trust you. We're a bunch of armed strangers coming banging up at the door."

Daryl recalled what Beth had said. If they stormed off, people would've united behind Dawn against them, against a common enemy. But that was before—before he'd passed the rest of the night holding her in his arms, desperate to feel the faint pulse on her wrist, desperate not to think what he would do in a world that had no Beth Green in it. If it came to that, Daryl knew it made little different now. Because aside from the doctor, everyone in that hospital had become dispensable, irrelevant next to her. Everyone but Dawn. Dawn… he had to do it himself. He wouldn't want to harm any of those wards, if he had to, he would, not even think about it, but Dawn—no, Dawn was different. He even seriously thought of killing her just a bit down in the brain so that he could get the satisfaction of killing her again just as before he'd imagined it. For every little thing the fucking woman had caused Beth to suffer, killing her once just didn't felt _enough_ for him.

"All right then," Rick said again, "We do it as we go along. Our priority is the doctor," he continued, shooting him a look, and handed him the radio- "We keep it as silent as possible," he instructed again, "If we see things might go out of the hand, we grab the doctor and fall back here."

Daryl turned to Tyreese, taking to radio from Rick. "If something goes wrong here, you move back to the building complex. "We'll find you there," he told the bigger man. If something went wrong… That was the idea behind why they opted Tyreese stayed back, because if something went wrong in the clinic, like the place would get overrun by walkers, or something, then Tyreese would've carried her to safety… Because if there was one thing each of them knew sure as hell, it was that any plan never went accordingly to the plan. And after he took a step back out of this door, there was a chance that he would have never seen her alive again, never seen her looking at him, smiling at him, pursing her lips at him when she thought him cheating—or singing to him, holding his hand—He would've never seen her again making another _Oh_ at him… her lips rounding to make it… and would've never leaned into her to catch those full pink lips into his…

He pushed himself back at his feet agitatedly, his mind twirling with the last night's memories. He was going to kill that bitch, simple as that, he was going to do it.

Rick cornered him before they moved out of the clinic, giving him one of those looks, and Daryl knew what came next even before the older man uttered it out, "Daryl—" Rick began, but he cut him off.

"The bitch dies," he said. There wasn't no other option for that one.

Rick nodded. "I don't know what happened between you two outta there, but I understand. You have to do it, I know. You saw _me_ with those bastards when you found us again. I know how you feel, how it feels watching someone you care more than your own life being treated that way—but—but don't turn this into a revenge mission for yourself, brother," Rick held his neck, bringing him closer, "This _is_ for Beth," he pressed further, "Never forget it."

His eyes skipped over Beth, where she lay limp on the floor, lifeless sprawled out like a puppet strings cut, the light of her gone—his light gone— the sole, little light in the void that was his life— the light he'd have perhaps caught if he'd just stretched out—far enough and try- His eyes turned back to Rick again, "She still dies—" he simply said.

So Rick simply nodded back, and promised, "That she will."

* * *

_A/N: Sorry, a shorter chapter, wanted to update yesterday but got a bit cold, and don't feel well enough to deal with action stuff in the hospital._

_If memory serves me right, the light in the darkness stuff was something that mentioned by the actor that plays Daryl too (sorry, can't remember his name, bad fan here) and it just suits correctly with their interaction, and funny enough it also reminds me of Great Gatsby again, the way Gatsby felt for Daisy, the green light across the dock, which is sad, because canonly both of those lights died._

_Anyways, I enjoyed writing the talk between Rick and Daryl; this story will not have any characters' POV other than Beth and Daryl, but from now on more characters from the show will show up interacting with them._

_If everything goes according to the plan, the next chapter will have Dawn&Daryl confrontation, something I've been waiting for to do since the beginning, tell the truth :)_

_Until then, please just let me know what you think._

_Cheers. _


	9. Chapter 9

_A/N: Still got the cold a bit, and a bit fever, too, so tell me if it doesn't make sense. I didn't even proofread it once._

IX.

Beth was right; it was Shepherd who came out to check the gunfire. A surge of relief washed over him, seeing the woman carefully exiting out of the building, gun in hand, eyes trained ahead. She'd got another friend with her too, someone Noah had identified as Lamson, possibly another nuisance that Dawn wanted to be dealt with it.

Stationed behind a dumpster in the parking garage, Daryl surveyed the area as they did the same. The remains of a few undead corpses were still on the ground, just behind the fences that were chained with a padlock just at the other side of the street, the thing that hindered Beth at the fist time when she'd tried to escape. It was here she'd first fought for her life, and almost died. Being there, staying this close to the damn place made everything worse, thoughts and emotions whirling inside him like a raging storm, and he tried to clutch on Rick's voice, _"This is for Beth."_

Yes, storming off to kill Dawn wouldn't help her now, but only would make him feel better. The time for that would come, too. Beth had sent the bitch her regards, she'd said_ hi_. It would've been awfully impolite of him not to pass it along.

He only needed to convince Shepherd now, to end this thing as quickly as possible. The dumpster was hiding them from any curious onlookers, so Daryl waited until they made to it—then called when he saw the side of their slow, careful approaching.

He raised his gun, "Officer Shepherd!" Daryl called out.

The woman turned aside to him, raising her gun, the end of barrel pointed at him but hesitated seeing Noah, her eyes falling his gawky figure. "You," she spat, "What're you doing here?"

"We need to talk," Daryl answered instead of the young boy, "I'm Beth's friend."

The woman took a step forward, her companion following her, his gun raised too. "Beth?" she asked, arching an eyebrow, "I thought Dawn dealt with her."

Daryl shook his head. "She lives," he grunted out, "Lower your guns," then he said, giving them a loaded look, and repeated, "We need to talk."

The woman gave him a look back, and raised her gun higher in answer. The man followed her example. "Tell me a reason why we should do that?"

Daryl gave her another loaded look, "We know why you were sent to check out the gunshot," Daryl answered with simplicity, leveling his eyes at her, "Especially _you_."

That got her thinking, he could see her mulling over in her head what he had remarked, then shared a quick look with her colleague. "The gunshot—was it you?"

Daryl nodded. "Why do you want?" the police officer asked, "Why did you come?"

Noah answered, going with honesty, giving him a side glance as if to ask his permission. Daryl bobbed his head a little to let him speak. "Beth isn't well. She needs to get back at the hospital." He paused, tossing at him another glance, "Her people are here. They'll take the hospital, but they don't want any bloodshed."

"Hmm—" the policewoman growled low in her throat, but directed her question at Daryl, "What do _you_ want from us exactly?"

"We're getting inside, tell your people stay down— Help mine take the hospital."

Shepherd barked out a laugh. "Why would we do that? I don't even know you. Why'd I trust you?"

Daryl gave her a look, "I haven't killed ya."

He had a good, valid point there, Daryl knew. She got it, too, he also knew. He could have killed her even before he'd called her out. It was such a basic, fundamental truth in these days it put everything in perspective. "We do help you, and you take the hospital, what happens then?" she inquired further, proving his point.

"We get Beth inside, you help her, and we leave."

"You _leave_?" the policewoman asked back, her voice almost a sneer, "You _just_ leave?" Daryl nodded. "Do you take me a fool?" she spat.

"I take ya a survivor," Daryl told her back, holding his point, "Your time's runnin' out. You're next in the line."

Shepherd shook her head. "We got supplies and meds here anyone would gladly kill for even for a tiny bit. Do you honestly want me to believe you'll just leave them and go away?"

Daryl paused for a second, a brief hesitation halting him. Rick—well, Rick certainly would want a share from those supplies. Daryl wouldn't possibly care a fuck about meds right now, not when Beth was so close to the edge but Rick was Rick, and meds were meds. "We might take what we need, a tenth," he cleared the share, it was an honest one, something Rick wouldn't oppose, "but I give ya my word. The hospital will be yers."

"How many people you've got?" the male officer asked.

"Five, two more are with Beth—"

"What's wrong with her?" Shepherd demanded, "What happened?"

"Dawn tried to kill her. She's got a concussion, and an internal bleeding. She possibly needs surgery too."

"Surgeries are _expensive_. Half of a tenth," she bargained, "And I want your people gone after we dealt with Dawn."

Daryl shot at her a dark look. "We ain't leaving her with you."

Shepherd shrugged, "You and Noah can stay, but the rest of you will leave. I won't have you people wandering in my hospital."

There was adamant note in her voice when she uttered "my hospital," something made sure Daryl that it was the best deal he would've gotten from her. He could see her point too, five strangers with arms in a close building never boded well, and she'd let _him_ stay. That was what mattered to him the most. "Deal," he grunted out, "Tell your people stay down."

But Shepherd didn't reach out to her radio as Daryl would have liked her too, instead gave him a curious look, "Was it you—the running fool Gorman kept yammering about—" she clarified with a dry smile, and asked again, "was it you?"

In silence, Daryl looked at her, _hard_. She let out a little, low laugh, and turned to her colleague, "I _told_ you she isn't as clueless as she seems," she remarked, and mused out loud, drawing the words in careful consideration, "Must be the eyes," and turned back to him, "those wide blue, doelike eyes, got you suckers every time."

His face turned colder, his grimace setting along his lips, his jaw tensing, because he knew damn well what the older woman had meant. He took a threating step further, but the policewoman held the radio on her shoulder, and spoke— "Hold your fire, do not engage. I repeat do not engage." Her eyes found his, "We're staying out of it."

# # #

It finished as quick and silent as it had started, aside one man—one man who was running down in the dimly fluorescent lit corridor—When Shepherd's own people chose to stay down, Rick and the rest of them had managed to kill Dawn's supporters even before he reached to the fifth floor, tagged along with Shepherd and Noah. Listening to her order, Shepherd's men had stayed back along the corridors—not making a scene and Rick hadn't touched them as well. The wards simply fluttered back into their rooms, shutting the doors as tightly as possible, getting themselves out of way.

Daryl was glad. No bloodshed, this was getting just he'd imagined—better than he'd imagined—it felt like all the shit he'd been having since yesterday finally were paying off—and soon he'd get his hands on Dawn too…

He quickened his pace, running after the man. Licari. Shepherd had shouted his name, though it was different. The sly officer had managed to mingle in the middle of their group, pretending to be one of Shepherd's men and got this close to kill Rick, stabbing his knife into his back before Carol saw him and pushed him away, her knife entering into his side as Shepherd exclaimed his name— "Licari!"

The man then had pushed himself away off of them and started running back. Daryl had followed. He'd heard the name—heard the crude jokes they'd made with his pals Gorman and O'Donnell, heard him of talking about Beth in that way—and he was the runner—he'd run after her for hours, he would just _show_ it to the man.

So he ran… behind him, yelling at Rick, "I got him!"

The man opened a door next to him at the left side and threw himself inside. Not without losing a second, Daryl followed. A part of him, the rational, responsible, sensible part of him was telling that he should have stopped and returned to Rick. He should have looked for Dawn, they hadn't caught the bitch yet, but somehow his feet just kept going on. The running fool Gorman had kept yammering about…

Dawn's time would come too, he just needed to deal with this man first. He couldn't have dealt with neither Gorman or O'Donnell no longer, but he could at least deal with their friend. The man jumped over three steps at once, falling on a small hall on faltering feet before started going down again. Daryl took a short brief pause, adjusting a possible juncture point down there Licari was climbing down, and calculated five steps down— at fifth, he adjusted his speed, at three his momentum, his right hand clutching the rails tightly, at second, he got nearer, raising on his toes, at the last step he jumped, hoisting himself up on one arm, and threw his body at the other side of stairwell, and letting his arm go, he dropped down, landed just on the top of the man.

Rolling over off him, Daryl threw the man at the wall, his hand already at his trachea, squeezing as the blood turned the man face blue. Frantically, he waved his arms—hitting at him—at his side—trying to throw his weight off of his body—but his hand pressed further in answer.

The man though replied back with a kick in the shins. He growled, pulling back, a fist colliding at his left side. Daryl grabbed the man's head and banged him at the wall.

Another kick exploded this time in his groin, and he bent down—over the man as he clutched at him. Daryl wrapped his arms back around his torso in a bear hug, both trying to throw punches at each other's sides— He reached out to the fury—snapchats flashing before his eyes- her singing slowly halting—her crying in his arms after they'd checked every inch of her body— her throwing up at her—blood in his hand, soggy and yellow and red-her listless form on the floor— in his arms—his hand holding her wrist—a slow beat— With a cry tearing out of him, he pulled the man aside, and threw him on the ground. He saddled the man at the hips, his fists already raised high, hitting as hard and fast as he could—with each hit a memory flashing… His hand wet and sticky, the man's grunts painful and throaty— _This's for Beth,_ Rick's voice cut through his red frenzy—His hands stopped.

She'd got no time for this. He needed to find Dawn, dealt with her and got her back to the doctor. He pushed himself up from the man, taking his knife in his hand and killed the man with a swift stab at back of the head.

When he returned, Rick was talking to Shepherd. "We checked out the whole floor—" she said, explaining, "she isn't here."

Rick only gave a brief look at his appearance, he'd never looked at his best for a long while, but Daryl knew right now he must looked like a mess, more than usual even for his own standards. "Licari?" Rick questioned.

Daryl nodded vaguely, but asked, "Dawn—isn't she here?"

Rick shook his head, "She must be. But we couldn't find her yet."

Daryl stopped for a second, thinking then said, "I know where she's," He turned to Shepherd, "Where is the elevator?"

Both of once law enforcement officers looked at him, then Shepherd pointed ahead, "It's the second door at the end of that corridor."

Rick made an attempt to follow too, when Daryl turned and started walking to the direction Shepherd had instructed, but Daryl stopped him with a hand. "Nah… It gotta be me. I 'ave to do this."

Rick nodded, weighing him down with a solemn look but pulled his hand back. Daryl walked away. The door was around fifty feet away from the corridor and it felt like ages to him walking there, each step more deliberate than the other. Killing Licari had cooled down his pent up fury, leaving Dawn only old, cold contempt and hatred. He grabbed the door's handle and pulled it open.

A woman in uniform was standing at the edge of the shaft, looking below, her back at the door. Without a word, Daryl stepped in. "I used to come here to look down to remind myself what happens when you die," she told him as a way of greeting, her back still on him. "Then I started to come once a while because it keeps things in perspective."

She turned around, "She took refugee in the same way, too," She looked at him, "She was a fool, but a very smart one, I'll hand it to her."

"She ain't no fool," Daryl said back, pulling his gun out, "She did this to ya, it was her plan. She says _hi_."

Dawn laughed. "So does she get it, huh?" Daryl frowned, as she laughed more, "She's just like me now."

"She ain't like you," he snapped back, "She doesn't use people."

"Yet somehow people always end up doing what she wants— Look at you, got you all wrapped around her little finger—running after her for hours, going war for her—how many people have you lost, have many people you sacrificed, yet you can't let her go—can't you?"

Daryl stayed in silence, because she _was_ right, he just couldn't let her go. How could he? She was possibly the only good thing had ever happened to him. He was drawn to her—couldn't help himself, like a moth to a flame, she was his light—his beacon in the void…

"Oh, you see it now, don't you?" Dawn asked back, seeing his expression, "Do you know why I wanted her gone—not Shepherd—not even O'Donnell but her?"

"Because she was the easiest."

"Because she was the most dangerous. I know your sort. Hard shells, but soft hearts. I saw guys like you doing _very_ bad things for girls like her, just to make them happy, make them smile."

"She ain't like that," Daryl growled out.

"And said the man who came to kill for her sake," Dawn intoned cuttingly, "You know what I mean. She draws people around her like a magnet, yet she doesn't understand it." Anger heated her voice, "I tried to help her, try to get her understand, but she didn't. Together we could've done great things, but she chose to remain a fool."

"She ain't no fool," Daryl repeated, ignoring all the bullshit the woman had tried to put into his mind. The woman didn't know Beth, even a bit. Beth never used people for her own benefits. The woman standing before him _did_, they'd tried to make her choose between two evils, but she hadn't. That was who she was. "She sees things just as they are," he went on, "You think the ends justify the means, you think they're worth it but they ain't. No one will give you a medal for this. No one would care. There ain't no going back from this."

Dawn let out a forced laughter. "Then what we have left? Why are you still fighting, for what purpose? When Hanson cracked and yelled at us that there is no going back now, two of us got killed in the streets. They didn't want to fight back. Another killed herself in the shower following their deaths. Why keep struggling if you lost the sight of it?"

"Sight of what?" Daryl asked.

"All this! This's our test, our trial. And when we pass, we'll rebuild the new world from this one's ruins, a new world, a better one—"

Daryl shook his head, cutting her words, "You've lost your mind…"

Dawn gave him a smile, hopeful and…mad, "I saw it. He talked to me."

"Who?"

"_He—"_" Dawn whispered out fiercely, her eyes wide and moist, "In my dreams… He says… keep faith. He says it's gonna be okay if only we endure it. And I will!" She lunged at him, a scissor at her hand, "I will _not_ let you ruin—"

Daryl raised his gun and shot the mad woman at her head before she reached at him. There was no fury, no anger, no hatred in him anymore but only a deep, chilly bleakness as he stood looking at her dead body. Madness, what he saw was pure madness, born of a strange mix of despair and hopefulness, turning her into a zealot in her conviction.

He pushed the body off the edge, just like she had done to Beth and watched as she fell back in the void, her face still looking at him… as if she tried to tell him one last thing…

_She's just like me…_

And it filled him with dread, not because the words were true, because Beth wasn't like her, no, but Dawn—with her all conviction and hope once had been just like Beth.

* * *

_A/N: So, the idea here was to create a twisted version of Beth, faith going all wrong-ending up madness and general stuff, but also have a bit of truth inside. I haven't seen the whole seasons yet, but the show as far as I know hasn't still made any kind of setting like this, we know they explore the possible out-come of people reacting to such an apocalypse, and it made me wonder...because you see, I can totally see people going all Joan D'arc, or something. We didn't see it in the canon like this of course, but Dawn really looked like she lost her shit._

_I was waiting for that confrontation between them too, because Daryl really looks like one of those guys, right, who would make anything to get his girl happy...the guys like in Noir movies, hmm. Maybe someone should write a crime mystery in Noir setting for these two._


	10. Chapter 10

X.

Three hours, it'd passed three hours since that bastard of a doctor had Beth inside the operation room, barking orders at his staff—opening her eyelids, flashing the penlight across her irises… stating things he couldn't understand, but he could damn well recognize the urgency of the tone—he didn't need to get into the med school to realize it; her time was running out.

After he'd killed the crazy bitch and Rick had secured the hospital with Shepherd, they'd turned to the clinic to get Beth, another kind of dread in his stomach, dread of not finding them again—because he'd never trusted his luck that much, even taking away the hospital without a bloodshed was a miracle in itself, so he was half waiting the universe to even things out as it usually did, and shit happened, Beth went missing again—slipping out of his fingers—or worse slipping off of his fingers completely, and he was too late—fucking too late.

Neither had happened. Beth was still there, Tyrese and Maggie watching over, and the faint pulse on her wrist still beating. He'd quickly lifted her in his arms, and carried her back to the hospital, the rest of the group following them, circling them in a protective bubble.

Now he was sitting at the farthest corner at the hallway in front of the operation room, away from everyone else, wishing to be left to his own. So many things happened since last night, he didn't want to think anymore, only wanted her to open her eyes and smile at him—but with each minute the door to the operation room stayed closed, his thoughts grew heavier as if it was possible—the dread in his stomach turning bleaker, thoughts twirling in his mind from one to the other—Beth lying limp in his arms—Dawn looking at him falling in the shaft—Beth crying in his arms, clad only his shirt and her underwear, telling him it wasn't a goodbye…then Shepherd sly smile—_it must be the eyes…got you suckers every time_

He wanted to be out of here—away from these people—away from their bullshit, away from their callous madness. He wanted to take Beth and go away—somewhere their shit couldn't touch her no more somewhere there could only be two of them—there they could heal each other—lick their wounds together like they'd done before—but he couldn't get to do that.

Three hours… First, her injuries were so bad that it was taking hours to patch her up again. Second, they weren't alone no more. Once again they were united, the rest of her family was with them, hanging outside the operation room—waiting with him. His alone time with Beth had come to an end. Maggie was the closest one to the door, as if she couldn't be away from her again, even though the notion pissed him off a great deal, Daryl let it go, not mustering up enough energy to tell her shut it off. Glenn was standing just beside Maggie, as usual, giving a silent support with his hand on her shoulder. Rick was rested along the wall, Carol was next to him, directing worried looks at him now and then from where she sat down, but she hadn't come to his side yet. Sasha and Tyreese were at the far end, a bit away from the others, as if they were paying a sort of respect for their connection. Daryl though stayed at the other side of the long hallway, a great deal away from them—No one commented on it, as Daryl knew they knew he needed his solace.

He wondered how things would be now. When she woke up she was going to see them, she was gonna see Maggie— Daryl didn't know what she truly felt for Maggie abandoning her, but Beth wasn't one to hold grudges. She even said it was okay, that she understood. He didn't damn know what she would understand but he knew Beth possibly would forgive her big sister, with tears and hugs—would tell Maggie it was okay. She was wired up that way.

Some part of him wanted to see that, what to see her like she had always been, proving Dawn wrong, proving that they didn't break her down, but the other part was having a hard time accepting it. It was downright stupid and _sick_, but he couldn't help it. He wanted her stay as before, like the girl who still believed in good and people. If she lost that— if she lost that light—what would happen to her? The question sent another chill across his spine, remembering Dawn's eyes, wide and moist, and mad… He couldn't let that happen to Beth, he just couldn't—but he didn't know how to hinder it if it did, but he could tear this suck-ass, shithole, rotting world apart if he had to, to stop it. He just couldn't see her light wane off—

_I know your sort. Hard shells, soft hearts. I saw guys like you doing very bad things for girls like her, just to make them happy, make them smile._

Damn you, woman, damn you to hell and back!

He stood up, suddenly angry, and started pacing, because the damn bitch as mad as she was, she was also right about it. He could do anything for her. Anything. Hell, she didn't even have to ask for it. He could still do the same. It was probably something shrinks would say not—_healthy_—for feeling about anyone like this but it was what it was—and Daryl Dixon had never been known to do shit halfway. So he guessed if it was damn appropriate for his character if he fell in love, he fell all way down—

Wait a minute-

Did he? Did he fall in love?

Well, _shit_.

He racked his hand through his hair, turning towards to the door at the other side—not to let anyone see him in sudden realization—his breath coming short in his chest—a tremble in his hands shaking them. He was such a big dumbass.

The door in front of him suddenly opened, revealing Shepherd walking in the hallway, flanked by Lamson and another officer he didn't know by name. "How is she?" she asked, standing in front of him, "Hasn't she come out yet?"

"No," Daryl growled out, giving her a side look, turning away from her, but not before he caught her lips pursing down with displeasure.

"Three hours and almost a half—" she said, checking her watch, "Isn't she high-maintenance to keep alive?"

Shifting aside, he shot at her a glare. "Charge us more!"

She gave him a sweet smile. "Oh, sure I will."

He took a threating step towards her as Rick came at their side, putting a hand at his upper arm. "We've come to an agreement," Rick reminded her, "Half of tenth."

"Three of tenth," she bit off, "The surgery takes too much of our resources."

Rick shook her head, "You know she deserves a bit of gratitude from you for all things happened," he grunted at her.

Shepherd gave him a withering look, "If she _just_ did what I told her, none of this would have happened!"

"You wanted her to kill someone!" Daryl spat out, taking another step.

Shepherd shook her head, frustrated. "Believe me no one would _ever_ lose any sleep over that one," she told them, her gaze turning to Rick, "I'm not a monster you think of me. I wanted to help her. I wanted to help them, all of them."

Daryl recalled what Beth and Noah had spoken. "They kidnapped people, they forced them to do things—and all of you watched it."

To all her credit, she actually looked shameful. She ran her eyes away. "It's a hard world out there, here is still better than outside—"

Daryl shook his head at her, disgusted, "Keep tellin' yerself that."

Rick got closer to her, leveling a look. "You _should_ stop taking people—this isn't going anywhere—" He gestured with his head, "And your _resources_ ain't infinite."

She returned his look, nodding with a sigh. "I _know_," she bit off, "That was what I kept telling Dawn, but she just didn't listen."

Rick opened her mouth to speak again, but the doctor came out of the other door at the same moment. Forgotten the policewoman in front of him, Daryl rushed to the door. Being closer, Maggie and Glenn were already at the doctor's side. "Is she okay?" Maggie had already asked when he arrived.

He wanted to give her a push for that, it had to be him asking that—not her—she didn't get the right to be worried before him anymore, but of course, he couldn't. Maggie was still Beth's sister, and Daryl was-well, in terms of relations, Daryl was no one.

"She's asleep—" the doctor answered, "Her brain hasn't bled, there was no swelling, either, so it's good new. "I stopped other bleedings too, her kidney was particularly bad but she will recover. It needs time, though."

Daryl nodded, wondering how much _it_ would cost them this time. "Fever?" he asked out loud, "She didn't get infection, but she had a fever."

"Possibly from the dead bodies—her immunity system doesn't work well now, that's why she's got to stay here before it's safe to leave for her. She's open to all kind of infections. And there're tons of them right now."

Daryl made a face, not liking what he was hearing. "How long?"

"About a week, at least."

Daryl exchanged a look with Rick then both turned to Shepherd. Her lips pressed into a thin line. "We made a deal," she reminded them, gritting through her teeth.

"What deal?" Maggie asked.

The police officer turned her attention towards her, "You leave. Like now."

# # #

"I'm not leaving," Maggie repeated for the third time in the last time, darting at him a seething look as if he was the one who had asked them to leave.

"I gave her my word—" Daryl said, turning to Rick, instead of talking to Maggie, "She doesn't want you inside."

"You go—" Maggie said, "I'm not leaving."

He was trying to be understanding here, but Maggie wasn't helping a damn to her case. "You left her behind once!" he barked out at her, getting closer to her, "Shouldn't be a problem now."

"I thought she was dead! I'm not leaving my sister with these—these sonsofbitches."

The words how he kept seeing Glenn's name when he trailed after the track after Beth was taken had come to his lips, but he swallowed the words at the last minute. "I'm staying," he told her as calmly as possible, "I won't let anything to happen to her."

Maggie looked thoughtful for a moment, but then she repeated, "I'm not leaving."

Daryl growled out loud, turning away from her, his hand waving around. He walked to the other side of the room. It was all grating on his nerves.

"I'll talk to Shepherd," Rick said, leaving them to find the police officer, "See if she could be—reasonable enough to find a common ground."

Yeah, like that would ever happen, Daryl passed in his mind, but didn't comment out. Rick was Rick, and he could always try. Before, when they were alone, he'd wished Rick to be his side, he'd felt so out of his depth with dealing an injured Beth, but now that they were—somehow he wished they would've just gone… He didn't know—he couldn't understand—aside that he was still out of his depth— That he was pretty much fucked up—because he was damn in lo—no, he shouldn't think stuff like this.

It was madness—pure madness. He'd lost his shit, had gone completely nuts.

Rick had come back a half of an hour later, a grim expression over his face, his jaw set in. Daryl recognized the look. "What'd she say?"

"She decided to be _reasonable_," Rick spat, giving out a low snort, "She let us stay for the time being, but we're to leave off our guns," he explained further.

Well, for Shepherd—that was progress, he thought, but wondered what kind of frustrations and unspoken threats had had to come out from Rick's side to bring the bitch to be-that reasonable. The doctor exited out of the room at that moment, followed by one of the wards, another young girl around Beth's age, and stopped in front of them. "We took her off the machines. She will be coming to soon."

"Can we see her now?" Maggie asked, her voice pitched, hopeful.

The doctor nodded. "Five minutes. Don't tire her, or get irked—or excited—or anything," he warned solemnly, "She needs to take it slow. Should be confusing to her waking up here again."

He felt like hitting the guy repeatedly—even suggesting something like this—The damn hospital almost did her, the sorry excuse for a doctor himself had used her to kill someone, and now he was warning them. They really got the hell out of this place, needed her to get away from these people.

They slowly entered into the room, Maggie and Glenn at first, Maggie rushing at her bed, then Carol—then Rick and him, and Sasha and Tyreese for the last. The doctor followed them in too, he was about to make a protest, Maggie started crying, "Beth—Beth—are you okay?"

His eyes turned to bed—her limp form as she lay down on the bed, a bandage on her forehead, an IV cord attached at her hand, and her eyes were fluttering open.

"Beth—" Maggie cried over, holding her other free hand, bending over her, "Oh, Beth…"

At the corner of the room, Daryl watched the scene, his chest squeezing, he wanted to go there—he had to be there—it had to be him—holding her hand—but he couldn't—he had no rights…no rights whatsoever…

Then Beth made a whimper—looking dazzled at her sister, her blue eyes glazed—almost to a grey, and whispered out, "Daryl?"

At hearing his name on her lips—he pushed forward. He took careful steps—acutely aware of the looks he was receiving from the rest of the group, eyes hitting on the back of his neck, but he kept walking—she was calling out at him…

"'m here," he told her, approaching the bed, and warily took a tactful seat on the side of the bed, not close to Maggie, but not very far from Beth, either. Her look found her, as she slowly pulled her hand away from her sister's grip, and placed it on the top of his. The moment of their hands toppled on each other before he'd leaned down to kiss her flashed in his eyes, but he chased away the memory.

"Told you I'll see ya again—" she mumbled out with a half smile.

"You did," he roughed out—holding himself forcefully not to caress the soft skin over his callous hand with his thumb.

"Did you tell her?" she asked then, and he knew what she was talking about. The others might get confused with the whole exchange—but they didn't know. They hadn't been with them through all nightmarish night. It pained him to see her like this…even now… even when she'd reunited with her family again, she was asking about Dawn—but it was what it was, Dawn had become a part of her, he understood, a sort of wound similar the ones that he carried over his back, only not visible, but the damage was still there, a part of who she was now, how the scars over his skin was a part of him, too.

So he nodded slowly, and told her, "I did. I told her. She knew it was _you_."

Another ghost of a smile passed over her face, "Good," she slowly muttered out, before her eyes closed again.

* * *

_So, Beth is awake again, and Daryl understood how hard he did fall in love, and well, we'll have now a bit darker, obsessed Beth now, because, well after all this happened, who would have stayed the same, right?_

_And, I think I'm getting a liking to writing Shepherd, I have no idea why. She just keeps getting involved, I swear I didn't intend to make her appear this much, but she just keeps popping up! I honestly have no control over my own damn story! Haha!_

_Hope still you're enjoying it._


	11. Chapter 11

XI.

She was falling, in the darkness… she was falling— Dawn's sly, but almost tired voice echoing in her ears… _Oh, but, you're, otherwise you've should've killed me long ago_

Should have? She didn't know.

She was just falling… then she hit the ground… And she was in his arms, and he was crying…her hand reached out to touch him… _I'll see you again… This isn't a goodbye… _

_Tell her I say hi…_

Dead bodies were under her, she could fell, she could smell… the bottom of her every nightmare… but a crystal of snow whiteness was above her, too, just over the horizon, shining at her… getting closer—and closer—shinning brighter…and brighter… and it was beautiful, how could such a moment like this be beautiful, she didn't know… why the light would shine down on such a dark place, she didn't know… then she thought maybe she was dying… maybe the world had finally win… After all, Beth Green was only a girl who was trying not to die in the apocalypse.

But she wasn't ready, oh god, she wasn't still ready, not yet… perhaps not ever… she wasn't ready. She told him she would see him again, she'd promised. _I'll see you again…_

And she also promised she would live, if nothing else, then _just_ to spite Dawn… She had to live…

Her eyes fluttered against the light—she pulled herself out of darkness—out of light- The world was shifting behind a haze—grey and dim, and she felt heavy—as if everything was in slow motion—vaguely aware of presences around her or the sounds surrounding her—someone was crying, calling her name— oddly familiar feminine voice but she couldn't place it… She wanted to tell her not to cry—they didn't get to cry anymore— but she couldn't because it wasn't the voice she wanted to hear… she wanted that luscious, rough drawl, syllables forcing themselves out of the back of his throat, vaporizing into her as if the smokes he fancied breathing in.

"Daryl?" she whispered out. Where was he? Why it was not him calling her… It had to be _him_…

"'m here," she heard the drawl she was missing, filling her in—she gave out a half smile, a heaviness on her hand—shifting haze became more palpable, light shadows took familiar shapes…

"Told you I'll see ya again," she mumbled out, looking at him. Beside him, there was Maggie—her sister—her big sister—the sister she had missed so much, the sister she had dreamed many nights—the sister had forsaken her. Oddly, she couldn't bring herself to care… Daryl grunted out something, but it wasn't important—the only thing mattered right now—she had to know.

"Did you—tell her?" she asked.

"I did. I told her," he answered, "She knew it was _you_."

_Good_. "Good," she let out, satisfied, and closed her eyes_. I made it. You were wrong._

# # #

When she came to again, the world was much more a grounded place. She let out a slow, labored breath, and slowly wandered her gaze around the room.

Almost everyone she had ever wished to see again after the prison had fallen was with her around the bed, some seated next to her, some standing at the wall, and Maggie was even sitting on her bedside, still holding her hand in a delicate grip, as if she was afraid to hurt her.

The thought almost choked her on a laughter. _It takes more than a hand squeeze to bring me down, sister,_ she reflected bitterly, but almost amused, then shook her head. She shouldn't think like this… should she? "Hey—" she mumbled out, "Long time no see." _Enjoying life without me? _she almost added sardonically.

She _really_ shouldn't think like this—she berated herself, wandering her eyes around the room again, trying to find Daryl… wondering why he wasn't near to her. She spotted him at the far end of the room, at a corner, half in shadows. The notion pulled her eyebrows tightly, sending the familiar drill through her temples. Oh, joy. She'd missed that too!

"How're ya feelin'?" Maggie asked, rough, drawled out, and too soft, too thin, too delicate.

"Had better days." Her voice was dismissive because she really didn't want to get into emotional crap right now, and Maggie had those eyes looking at her, moist and red—fat tears shining in them, eyes looked as if she was feeling… guilty. Oh, she definitely didn't want to go there. She wanted to know what had happened. She fixed her eyes at Daryl, "Did you talk to Shepherd?"

Daryl lifted his head from his corner, giving her a measuring look, then slowly nodded. "I want to see her," she then declared.

"No!" Maggie protested with cry, "You don't need to. You don't need to worry about them now. You just get well," she told her with a teary smile, her hand tightening over her in a way to reassure her, "we'll deal with the rest."

She let out a long, loaded sigh. "I'm fine, Maggie, you don't need to do this."

Maggie and Glenn shared a look, she didn't miss, and it was getting her really pissed. Just for a second in her company, she began fussing over her like a baby. Probably mostly out of guilt. Her eyes skipped to Daryl, and _why_ the hell he was standing over there at the corner, so far away from the bed—as if—as if she was just someone he barely knew, and he didn't want to disturb the moment with the closest kin.

The silence in the air tensed, and it was Rick who broke it first. "We should let her rest," he told them, "it was a hard night for her."

A hard week more likely, but she didn't care to correct. She just wanted to be alone now. If she was alone at one point or another, Shepherd would come to see her anyway. She _just_ knew it.

They both nodded, silently, started walking out, Daryl giving her a slide glance. She wanted to call him back to her side, she didn't want him to leave, but if he could barely spare a glance at her now—she was not going to do it. This was how it was going to be now because they were united now? Restrained back, he would just pull back and stay at sideline as if she was just an acquaintance, because he was damn Daryl Dixon—the extraordinary lone wolf, the enigmatic hunter. _No way._

She was not going to buy that shit, but she could deal with it later, because Maggie was still sitting at the side of the bed, looking at her in worry. She let out another sigh, but let her stay. She guessed they'd better get over it.

Expectedly, Glenn stayed too, but Beth wasn't surprised of it. Briefly she wondered how they'd found each other—Maggie and he were separated when Beth left the bus to find Judith—wondered _if_ Maggie had searched for him or written him off dead as too.

The possibility upset her a bit—but she pushed it off. Daryl said he'd sort of bumped at Rick at the tracks—so she guessed they'd found each other on the road as well. When the door closed, she turned her attention to her big sister. "Look, Maggie, it's okay. You don't have to feel guilty or—or something. I get it."

There were a lot of things she got it now, thanks to Dawn and Grady. But Maggie gave her an incredulous look, still suspicious. "Aren't you…mad?" she asked.

"For not looking for me? For giving up on me?" she asked back directly, "I guess I could've but I've had a _very_ hard week…" She huffed, shaking her shoulders, "So let's not, shall we?" She gave her a smile, small but true, told her what she _really_ felt, "I'm just…glad we found each other again."

That, and she was just so damn tired to throw a tantrum to make her feel less guilty, but she didn't tell Maggie that.

# # #

Daryl came before the evening eased into the night, before she drifted off the sleep, finally alone. First she'd been tired, now she felt weary to bone. Shepherd hadn't showed up either, so she was getting a bit worried too. "Hey," she called out, as he stepped in the exam room, standing at the feet of her bed, but not coming any closer.

She really didn't like this gap, even alone he seemed trying to put some distance between them. She missed her—well, she really didn't know what she should call him. _Friends_ didn't seem enough—family didn't sound _right_, partners in harsh times just sounded too _sterilized_.

Perhaps he felt the same confusion with their…tangled affiliation she felt, hence his lurking behind a corner. But he'd come now, that was what mattered. He was looking at her again with that funny expression in silence, too, his head slightly bowed, as if he didn't want her to see his full expression. "Are you okay?" she then asked.

As if he was surprised, his head tilted backward at her, then gave out a little smile. "Why'd you always ask me _that_ when it should be me askin' ya?"

She laughed low in her throat, shaking her head. "Why, making proper conversation's never been your strongest suit, Mr. Dixon." She watched him as he gave her a shrug off, but his face losing a bit of strain, then hers became serious. "I know last night was hellish for you, too, Daryl," she told him sincerely, "I know how much you hate losing people."

He gave her a small nod in acceptance. "It was—"and told her with a small voice.

"But we made it," she said, half rising off her pillows, and held out her hand. Seeing her gesture, he walked to her—his earlier distance forgotten, she saw with relief—they were still the same, his hand clasped hers, "We survived."

He bowed his head. "I thought I was losing ya, too."

Her breath caught in throat, making it harder to swallow, but she shook her head chidingly, and forced the words out of her mouth—"Clear—clearly you should listen to me more carefully. I _told_ you I'm getting _alive_ out of here."

He lifted his head, and gave her another smile, "If nothing else, then just to spite Dawn."

"Exactly."

He gave her just another smile, third one in a row, and her stomach made some flip-flops that she was sure had nothing with nausea this time. She made Daryl Dixon smiled three times in a row, that must be a new record. Then he pulled his hand back, his face turning serious. "Ya should heal fast, so we get our asses outta here."

"Yeah—" she drawled out, "I'm half surprised to see Shepherd let y'all wander around—"

"We made a deal," Daryl told her back.

"What deal?"

He told her the deal for meds, then finished, "She let me and Noah stay as long as you do, but the come morning she was gonna send Rick and the others away. Rick managed to get her...reasonable, bought a few days more."

"Hmm," she hummed, thinking, "I really need to talk to her, Daryl," she said then.

"Why?"

She gave him a look, and shot the bullet, "I want to take the wards with us. We can't leave them here."

# # #

He was wearing the tiles in the exam door like a caged animal, in frustration and- for fuck's sake, wasn't it enough? "No, Beth!" so he told her just that, waving his hand at her across the bed, "Wasn't this enough?" Because damn sure it was enough for him, for a lifetime, "No more saving people. You get well, and we get the fuck outta here. _Period_."

"But—"

"No buts," he cut her off bluntly, "What's this, huh? Are ya developin' a damn hero complex or what?"

"Well, I can't leave them here!" she objected.

"Why not?"

"Why not?!" she exclaimed, "Are you _seriously_ askin' me that?" He gave her a look, a clear warning not to get into there, but of course, she didn't take it, or just chose to ignore it, sometimes Daryl couldn't tell. "Imagine me being one of them," she asked instead, "What'd you do?"

"You _were_ one of them, and I came to save your ass. I ain't need t'imagine that!"

He didn't need to imagine no damn thing, they were gonna be in his very dream… "I'm just going to talk to her."

He gave her a hard look, searching, "And if she says _no_, whaddya do?" She stayed silent, so he pressed on, and told her what he always told himself in such occasions, "What happened, happened. You gotta move on."

Her voice was as cool as winter mornings, calm and serene when she told him back, each world precise but simple, "I'm not going to leave them."

# # #

Rick looked at him baffled, and asked, "She wants what?"

"She wants to take them with us. The wards," Daryl answered again.

They were alone in the cafeteria, Rick having a coffee that one of the wards didn't neglect to put it down on their charts, Daryl was just sulking. "She's—she's getting obsessed with these people."

Rick shot around a wandering look, the wards and the other elderlies. "They don't seem to me very-upset." He paused for a second, "Shepherd said she knew they can't keep on like these, taking people in. Maybe she will let us take them if we ask—nicely."

"Yeah, sure—" Daryl mumbled out.

Rick gave off a shrug. "Well, she doesn't particularly look interested with them, I don't know."

"Guess we'll soon find out," Daryl grunted out. Because there was no stopping Beth now. By coincidence Shepherd walked down in the hallway they're secluded at the other side with Lamson—shooting them a glance but didn't stop. Rick scowled at her retreating back. It had passed two days since Beth had woken up, but all of them were still in as Rick and the rest of them let their guns go and Shepherd hadn't kicked them out. He wondered when she would make a visit to Beth, too, but so far she kept her distance from Beth, too, for which Daryl was glad.

He was old for this shit, _old_.

Just another reason he added in his mind why the hell he needed to keep away from her. Funny thing though how wired up he felt with the crowd being with them now, curious eyes always on him whenever they were in the same room, the moment he was alone with her last night, they'd easily fallen back their laid back routine, her calling out him, raising her hand, the easy banter, almost flirting, the brief touches, holding each other hands. They'd come so natural, he had to reminded himself a couple of times this was going nowhere. At least nowhere good he could see.

Then she had said she had to save the wards.

A part of him still wanted to kiss her senseless, but the reality and pragmatism at the end had won—they couldn't get to do stupid, his all extravaganza fucked up in the funeral home was a great example on that. Yet another entry to the list why he should keep the hell away from her, and seriously wasn't it already enough?

He was _really_ old for this shit.

All things considered, more than anything, Daryl was pissed. He hadn't meant to fall in love in the middle of apocalypse, hell, he never meant to fall in love _ever_, and managed to keep himself successfully ou of that shitty business for years, too much hassle for his tastes, and for what-to open up yourself to someone else like a dumbass, showing your scars, showing them where you're vulnerable the most so when the time came they would hit you just right there? Bloody fucking ridiculous, no way.

He liked sex fine enough, sex was different—at least as long as they didn't get touchy feely about it and didn't read too much in it. He liked it hard and fast—rough and quick, hell, once there was this girl, who used to tease him saying he fucked harder than he fought, and that was it—another kind of fighting. Sex was good, yeah, but fighting was even better, and he just _hated_ doing all the relationship business related to it.

Then one moment—one fucking moment a dice somewhere in the universe tossed up, and he ended up running for his life with Beth Greene, falling in love like a moron in the meanwhile like a damn romance novel. And the worst part—the worst part of it, she even didn't do no damn thing, except being generally just a decent human being. Though, he had to admit being decent was a rarity itself in these days.

"Are you okay?" Carol asked him, sitting down on the seat across him, now in the empty small table. Rick had already gone. He _hadn't_ noticed.

He grunted out as if in a response. He wasn't okay. What kind of a stupid question was that? He wasn't okay. How he could be? He was fucking in love with a girl who had literally thrown up on him on the prospect of him kissing her.

Not that it mattered, of course. Because he never wanted to kiss her at the first place, it'd just happened… so it wouldn't matter, right?

He pushed up at his feet, still grunting out, wishing he wasn't closed up in the damn hospital. The good thing with being at outdoor, you could always find a wandering walker to beat the hell up when you felt like it. And right now he was feeling _very_ like it.


	12. Chapter 12

XII.

Shepherd came at the third day, when Beth lay awake on the bed, gazing at the ceiling, miraculously alone for the moment. She was never alone now, there was always _someone_ with her, someone except Daryl, of course. It was hard to tell with him now, one moment he was distant, the other he was pissed off—either way, she was never alone. They didn't tell her as such but she knew a guard when she saw one. They didn't want her to stay alone in the hospital. She was flattered that they were thinking about her, but she just wanted to be alone, think a little bit, and try to keep her thoughts in order. She was battened up, weary, and frustrated all the way down, a bitterness coiling deep inside her stomach. She was a mess really.

But she knew something. She could not leave them here to their fate. No. She just could not.

_You gotta move on…_

She also understood Daryl's point, yeah, of course she did, but letting it go… she didn't know, it felt like letting a part of herself too…letting _her_ win.

And…that just sounded _not_ right. It felt like she was doing it not for the right reasons, but to get back at Dawn. She wondered if it was something a good person really would do, the intentions really did matter at all—she honestly didn't know the answer anymore. The way to hell is paved with good intentions, it was said. So was she paving her way to hell too with her complicated intentions? Seeing Dr. Edwards helping her to get her feet was hard enough. It rose the bile in her stomach, the notion of the man she had wanted to kill saving her life, a sick joke, cruel but ironic. Life was not only cruel, she understood, it was also _ironic_.

Regardless of her reasons, she was doing a good _thing_, she told herself. That much she at least was certain. These people were held here not by choice. She should do something. _We should do something,_ she remembered snapping at Daryl not too long ago in the wild, even though it felt like a distant memory now.

Maybe—she was really getting a hero complex, like he said.

She put the thoughts away, and looked at Shepherd. "Well, you're welcome," the older woman spoke dryly when Beth kept her silence.

As if on a cue, like they'd sensed the policewoman presence with her, both Daryl and Rick entered into exam room within agitated manners, warily alert. If she wasn't that tired, Beth could've laughed.

"Easy," Shepherd called out, shooting a look at them over her shoulder, "Just wanted to have a talk."

"'s okay," Beth drawled out, "I want to talk to her, too."

Daryl's eyes found hers in silence, in a fair warning. She'd already decided, though. Something good must have come out of this. It had to. "Do you?" Shepherd asked back, an amused look crossing over her features, "I was thinking you'd never want to see me again."

Beth gave off a shrug, a good copy of Daryls'. "Want doesn't get."

Shepherd's lips cracked up with an earnest smile this time. "I'm really glad to see you alive, Beth."

"Are you?" Beth repeated her question, arching an eyebrow.

Shepherd's look on her turned to solemn as her smile vanished. "I told you. You started things. Without you, things would've gotten worse—" Her eyes skipped towards both men flanked her at each side, "That's why I accepted their offer."

Beth laughed a little, disbelief ringing in her tone. "You wanted Dawn go."

"I didn't say it was the _only_ reason. But yes—" she accepted, "Dawn had to go."

"Her faith turned her mad," Daryl spoke in a soft rough beside her, "Didn't no one realize it?"

Her head snapped at Daryl, lit with a fire. "Her faith kept us together, kept us at our feet. At first at least. It was—hard…losing hope."

Beth gave her a long look, a sort of understanding passing, remembering her own struggles. They were all in silence now, perhaps each remembering their own struggles, perhaps just startled with the sincerity Shepherd had answered. "Do you _honestly_ believe that there would be still going back from this?" Beth asked, "Things could go back to normal?" _Going back to holidays, birthdays, and summer picnics…_

Shepherd returned her in silence, contemplative as she regarded her question, then finally said, "I wanted to."

"I'm taking the wards with me," Beth then said, "You can't keep them here by force."

Shepherd heaved out a long sigh, as if she was tired to bone, too, shaking her head. "Perhaps, I was wrong. Maybe you _are_ just as clueless as you seem. Do you _honestly_ think that we keep all those people here by force?" An edge cut into her tone, as her soft pensiveness shifted into a brazed agitation, "Go ahead," she urged, "Go ask them if they want to leave with you out there or want to stay with _me _here_. _Let's see what they will say."

She marched to the door and opened it, revealing Percy wiping the corridor just outside, and shaking her head, she turned to them, before she walked out, "And you can start asking with _him_."

# # #

True to her words, Shepherd got all the wards in the cafeteria, looking with bewilderment at Rick as he talked to them. Seated in a wheel chair, Beth listened. "I know you're afraid of the world out there, and you're right. It's a hard place," Rick said with that voice of his, that made you listen every word he said, every letter coming with his strengthen, his influence heavy but soothing, almost telling you it was okay, and he got you. That was the voice that had people kept listening to him, falling behind him, believing in him, he was born to be a leader it was as simple as that, but still, there was something wrong. A wariness, the same caution of a prey as it watched its hunter.

"But it's the way how things are now," he went on, "You have to accept that." His eyes skipped towards Shepherd for a second while he said that before he turned back to his audience, "But you don't need to stay here any longer. If you want to come with us, we will take you. You can leave." His eyes again fell on the officer, "Officer Shepherd says you're free to leave."

Shepherd took a step forward next to Rick, and spoke too, "You heard the Sheriff. If you want to leave, you can. I won't keep you here by force. The playing house is done. I want you all on board if you choose to stay." Her gaze found Percy stand resting against the wall, as if he could not stand on his feet with help, "That means no more wiping floors, Percy, we got no needs for it. It's the end of the world," she remarked bitterly and wandered her eyes all over them, "So—anyone?" They kept looking at her in silence, still wary, "_No one_?"

In the end, no one made a sound.

# # #

"I don't understand," Maggie said, "They just kept looking at her. No one said a word._"_

"They want to feel safe—" Noah said, his head bowed, "and they're afraid."

Daryl shook his head, "No where is safe."

Noah shrugged, "I saw how it's outside…" Still in her armchair, Beth turned to look at Noah. There was a timber of something in his voice, a sort of—apprehension, something that made Beth wonder if he regretted now his decision to escape, that he wished to stay as well.

"Noah," she then said, because she felt she should—if it was what he desired, she didn't want him to leave just because of her sake. Because he felt he owed her for helping him escape. "Do you want to stay?" she asked, "If you want, it's okay. I understand."

She wondered if she meant it, if she really understood, because the silence in the cafeteria had come to her like hit in the stomach—but she could see it now. Aside Joan, Noah, and her—no one had made any attempt to do anything, they just went on—accept it, they just adapted in the situation. They were the divergent. She was the divergent. _You've changed things, _Shepherd had said, and she was right, she had. Even Noah had been just dawdling before she came, but couldn't make a real attempt. She wondered how Joan did, which circumstance had finally broken her enough to make an attempt, leading her to her end.

Noah gave her a look, "If I—" he started, rough—words barely made out, then cleared his throat, "If I—you-?"

She cut him off, "No. It's okay," she reassured him, reaching out putting her hand on his, "It's okay."

Daryl gave her a look under his bowed head, his eyes for a second looking at her hand over Noah's but he didn't make any further inclination. A second later, she pulled her hand back, straightening back.

"We're leaving tomorrow," Rick announced, "Shepherd says she want us gone at the morning. And I agree. I'm done with this place. We're returning." He turned to Daryl, "You come back to the church as soon as Beth gets better. She's accepted to give you a ride, too."

Daryl nodded, Maggie opened her mouth, and Beth slowly started standing up. She knew what was coming next, but didn't feel like hearing another round Maggie's stubborn insistence for staying with her. All in frankness, she realized, she wanted her big sister gone. There was a chasm between them now, a rift as dark as the one she had fallen in, and no amounts of regrets, excuses, or pleas would have vanished it, it was there, as real as the dead surrounding them. She told herself it was okay. They had changed. Things had changed. "Beth—" Maggie held her at her arm.

She shook the arm off. "I'm fine. I just need to be alone a bit."

Maggie gave her a helpless worried look as Daryl's intense eyes found hers too. She didn't want to see those too, so she turned and walked away.

At the corridor, she saw Dr. Edwards checking one of the patients at the threshold. They shared a look with each other and for a moment, Beth thought of the moment she'd walked toward him in the hallway, the metal touch of scissor cold and sturdy in her hand.

She kept walking. In the room, she found the scissor inside a closet, just next to her bed.

She took it out, held in her hand, feeling the cold metal touch biting at her skin again. Slowly she lowered herself on the floor, resting her back against the bed. She felt like crying, her eyes were hurting, but despite the sting, they were dry. _I don't cry anymore…_

The next second, Shepherd came into her room, carrying a metal flask in her hand. Seeing her at the floor, she let out a small sigh and extended her at it. "Thought you might need it."

Beth gave out a low, bitter chuckle. "Don't worry I'm writing it down from your share," Shepherd said helpfully, "It isn't a free offering."

"Of course," Beth said back, but didn't take it.

"There's no such a thing as a one-sided coin," the older woman said then, "I thought you already got it."

"Yeah, I get it now…" she whispered out.

Shepherd walked to the bed and set down, her feet just beside her hip.

"Why did you want to take them with you," the older woman asked, "Be honest. Was it to save them or make yourself—feel better, get back at us?"

Beth laughed. "I don't know," she admitted, "Did it matter?" _It does matter. _Her own words left a bitter taste in her mouth now, in her conscience. It felt like ashes. Everything she knew, the world she knew, the one she was taught to, the one she trusted was slipping away, she was slipping away… Beth Greene she had always known was disappearing through the cracks. Because once it would've mattered. That was how one would change? _I just wish I could change._

Be careful what you wish for… she thought the next.

"Don't know, either. Ask me the next time," Shepherd answered. They both sat in silence, Beth on the floor, Shepherd on the bed, without seeing each other, just sitting in silence. She heard an unplugging sound, and soft swallow from upside. "Joan," Shepherd said then, and continued, "It was my idea."

Her head snapped up at her. "After Hanson, things became very difficult. Everyone reacted differently. Gorman was getting worked up and we were worried. He—he—you know he was a necessary…annoyance, and I was still hoping we could work it out. So I thought if he was—less annoyed—then he should be less annoying. I talked to Dawn. We talked to Joan together," she went on, letting out another little sigh, "She said okay. At first everything was fine. She was even enjoying herself. It got _privileges_, you know. She was no longer moping the floors or washing clothes. Then Gorman—Gorman—he started—changing more…he got…unruly. Joan wanted to finish it, refused to go to him, but then something _else_ happened." She paused for a second before she started talking again, clearing her throat, "Dawn said she should. She said she _had to_—told her it was her job."

"And you let it—" Beth told her, turning her head away, looking ahead.

"Yeah, I did. Gorman… we needed Gorman. You know you need people like him now, tough son of bitches." She bent down and her eyes found hers, "Don't tell me those two guys that you keep around has never done nothing—questionable, nothing—let's say less than…ethical. How he said? It's the way of the things now."

Beth shook her head. "Rick and Daryl had done stuff," she accepted, "But they would've never done something like this. They kill, steal, even torture for us, but they'd never use a woman to keep a man happy."

Another gulp and Beth heard a long sigh heaved out. "Then we were just unlucky not having any Rick and Daryl. Because what we had was Gorman, O'Donnell and Licari, and someone had to deal with them." Another pause, "You work with what you have."

Beth stood up, and shot down at her a look. "If they were this powerful why they didn't take Dawn earlier. Why they let her around?" she questioned.

Shepherd let out roughed laughter. "Why they should? Dawn was doing almost everything they wanted—just to keep them happy, while as they had a figurehead to blame when things became heated. Dawn was at charge, when things went south, and they were going south on a regular basis, it was all her fault. Gorman had all the power he wanted without any responsibility or accountability."

"This's sick," she protested, "Y'all are sick."

"Yeah? Sick like wanting to save some helpless people to get back at us?" Shepherd hit back.

She shook her head, "I'm not like you," she said, suddenly finding all the confidence she needed. She was not going to be like them, simply because she didn't want to. She'd decided. All things considered, it was a damn good decision.

Shepherd shook her head, "Like us? Like me? Do you still think of me as a monster, Beth?" she asked back, "It was only you. You saw it with your own eyes. They _wanted_ to stay. All of them. Noah—since the day he came, he was always looking for a way to escape… always was telling himself he would…one day... You managed it in a week. Noah was here for more than a year, never tried even once until you came. He never wanted to escape, Beth."

Beth knew what she said was true, but still she held her ground, "What about Joan then?" she asked, "_She_ escaped."

Shepherd laughed at her, a cruel cutting sound, like she'd said the funniest thing in the world. "How do you think it happened? She didn't escape. _I_ let her go. I sent her away."

Beth looked at her in shock. "She was a mess, either sulking every day or making a fuss, throwing a fit. She was a disturbance. Dawn was getting reckless with her episodes. Gorman was being even more of a jackass. So I told her to go, told her try her changes outside."

Beth shook her head. "Your hands still not clean."

"No, they aren't," she agreed, "But I'll live with it." She stopped, "No one's hands are clean now. It's still safer here than out there."

"Nowhere is safe," Beth repeated her words back at her.

And Shepherd did the same, "Yes, but it's still what we got for now."

# # #

It was like a deja-vu, walking down in the hallway, everything so familiar, down to the cold fire in her, making her insides frost, the metal's touch was cold and sturdy in her hand. Dr. Edwards was talking to one of the wards like before, standing at the threshold.

It all felt like walking into a dream—another hallucination she was having—this time starring herself, but perhaps she was still at the bottom of that pile of dead bodies—slowly dying… she had never saved herself—Daryl had never found her- she had never gotten rescued.

She was just still lying there—waiting to die…

She gripped tighter the metal in her hand, her knuckles paper white. No… this wasn't a dream. She wasn't dying. She was…killing.

She lifted her head and her eyes found the doctor's… they exchanged a look for tiniest of seconds—her grip turning even tighter—

-Then she paused for a split of a second—and the world seemed to stop with her too, hung in slow motion, held its breath as if waiting for her decision. Then Beth decided.

The next second, she started walking again… and kept walking down in the hallway.

# # #

At the end, her feet brought her to one place she never thought she would want to see again. She walked into the elevator hall, the shaft's dark void stretching ahead her as she stood at the edge and looked at down. Even from here, she could see rotten, dead bodies at the bottom—horrid smell reaching from the depths.

She sat down at the edge, her legs swinging in the void, gazing at the abyss beneath her feet. She didn't know how long she sat like that but at then end it was Daryl who had found her there.

In silence, he walked to her, and sat at the other side, straddling the edge with one leg as he pulled the other at his chest, resting his back at the corner. "How did you know I was here?" Beth asked.

He only shrugged in response. "You shouldn't be here," he said instead.

"I know," she agreed, but she knew he wasn't talking only of infections she might get from dead bodies.

"Daryl," she turned her eyes at him, "If our positions reversed—would you—would you kill the doctor?"

His voice didn't hesitate, "Yeah."

"Why you didn't then?"

"He saved your life," he answered simply, "That's only reason why he's still breathing."

Another oh came till the tip of her tongue, but she managed to keep it at the last second. "Maybe there aren't good or bad people anymore, but only good or bad decisions." After everything, it was getting hard to tell.

But he shook his head. "Nah—there's still good and bad—there ain't left much difference between them—but you know the difference when ya see one."

"How?" she asked, her voice almost pleading, because she wanted to know it—again—she wanted to be old Beth—the one who believed in good and people. But looking at dead bodies beneath her feet, she was afraid she had lost that girl somewhere there down.

"There were these guys—after you—" he started to retell, her attention turning to him. It was the first time she had seen him speaking of what had happened to him after they had taken her. She knew he had run after for hours, but that was all she knew. "They found me on the road. I'd lost the tracks on a crossroad—was sitting down there. Found me like that. They were—true sonofbitches. I didn't understand at first. We stayed together for a while. They were looking for someone. They were after someone—a man they said who had killed one of them. It was Rick. They found him. I was in the woods first, saw him later… They were beating Rick—then they—they tried to rape—Carl."

Her mouth open, she stared at him, "Carl?" she whispered, "They—tried to rape him?"

Bowing his head, he nodded. "Rick—Rick had to rip off the man's neck to save him. To save us. I got a pretty beating." He gestured the bruises over his face… "So yeah, there're still bad people, Beth, and—and we ain't one of them. Don't ever forget that."

She ran her eyes away, "I tried to kill the doctor again tonight."

"Why ya didn't?" he only asked like how she'd done.

She shrugged, "I don't know, I just—didn't want to." She rested her back further against the wall, and admitted, "I guess I just gonna settle with being the old regular Beth…" she let out a low chuckle, "You know…the girl who's just trying not to die in the apocalypse."

Lifting his eyes at her, Daryl gave her a half smile—and for the moment Beth felt really nice with her decision. "You're making a damn good job with it," he complimented her.

She smiled back at him, "Yeah—turns out I'm a natural." She paused again, and peeked out below, and this time let out a sigh, "Perhaps I _really_ should write her a thank you note, huh?" she asked, an ironic bitterness sneaking inside her voice despite her best efforts. _Thank you for showing me who I want to be, bitch._

But Daryl shook his head, giving a look below, and told her, "We should burn it down."

Startled, her eyes snapped at his, as he gave her a knowing look with a smile. She reflected his smile back, her lips parting wider and wider. "I get the matches," she said, standing up.

Less than half an hour, they were emptying a few bottles of Ethanol down in the elevator shaft. Not satisfied, Daryl dropped a few with the bottles and all as she giggled—"Shepherd's gonna be sooo mad about this," she remarked giddily, her eyes skipping at him.

"Yeah," was his only answer as he handed her a lighter.

She shook her head at him, smiling big and happy—and gestured with her hand. "You go ahead. Burn it."

He lightened, and dropped it down in the shaft. They looked down at the edge, waiting—then a sudden fierce orange licked at their faces as their smiles grew bigger-happier. On its account, her hand found his, and clasped it.

Wordlessly, he squeezed it, pulling her closer to his side, their shoulders barely touching, but hands fastened on each other tightly.

She raised her other hand and threw up her finger, just for the old times sake. In answer, he pulled her closer to his side, his eyes never leaving the flames, and whispered, "Let's get the hell outta here."

Later in the night as she lay awake in the bed, a big, smarmy smile all over her face, she told herself, they were good. So as she lay down, she softly sung to herself like she'd done to him before… _We'll drink up our grief… And pine for summer… And we'll buy, beer to shot gun… And we'll lay in the lawn… And we'll be good_

They were all gonna be good.

# # #

The next morning Beth woke up with the same hopefulness and sureness of the last night, an echo of her song still in her ears—her smile still over her lips.

Noah walked into her room. She smiled at him warmly, no longer in sadness or worry, but only in acceptance. He'd made his own decision, too. They were all living their own life, the way they had chosen to.

She wanted to see Daryl too, she'd kissed him at his cheek last night—saying wordlessly thank you, thank you for everything… She wanted to see him again, see his smile, hold his hand. She wanted to tell him all was going to be well.

The door opened further, and she half eased off her pillow, rising her hand up, then stopped in the middle. Maggie walked into the room after Noah.

She looked at them. "Where's Daryl?" she asked.

Maggie looked at her with eyes squinted. "He left this morning with Rick," she answered, frowning, "He said he was leaving with Rick and I could stay in his stead." Maggie paused for a second as the world started turning around her— "I thought he told you last night. He was looking for you."

She fell back on the pillow, something inside her shattering into million pieces.

* * *

_A/N: Well, this chapter initially was supposed to be the final chapter of this story, them burning down the elevator shaft, and sort of moving on, walking into the sunset with holding hands, so to speak. But as I'm having a tremendous fun writing this story I decided to expand it further! So...Daryl had to be a dick, ha ha, leaving her just after that._

_Personally, I'm glad now that I finished up the hospital arc. There are some stuff that really not working in the canon with Grady. They showed it to us as a place that everyone tries escaping first, but after Rick made his talk that they could come with them-shit, no one-no one wanted to leave. I was like-what the hell? If it was such a bad place, why everyone wanted to stay? So I tried to make it as logical as I can, because otherwise it really doesn't work, in my opinion._

_Hope you're still enjoying, will stay with me too, for the rest of the story._


	13. Chapter 13

XIII.

After the suffocating oppressive density of the city air filled with disaster, desolation and death, the woods felt like he had come back home. Settling himself in the confines of the church's grounds, he took the first watch in the morning after they had arrived—wanting a bit solace to cool off before he went back in the woods to hunt. On the way from the city no one had questioned him about his sudden decision to return with them, leaving Maggie in his place, but they'd given him those glances.

Glances he didn't _fucking_ like, not one bit.

He busied his hands preparing snares, checking out bolts, and bow's strings, making sure everything was in order, forcing himself to focus on the job ahead.

He had no choice. He had to do it. It had to stop. He must've acted like an utter asshole but hell, Dixons were assholes. Best let her see it before this stupidity went completely beyond out of control and he did something _stupid_—like… like trying to kiss her again.

It must be a sort of delirium, he reasoned. Last days had been like hell. He'd gotten strained too much, and…snapped. In due time, it would certainly pass away. It just needed to do his shit and wait now. He hadn't gotten laid for—what—it felt like ages now since his last time. It'd been in the toilet in one of the biker bars he used to hang around with Merle before the turn—there was that girl—a redhead—a girl he couldn't remember her name… Wait… perhaps he didn't even know her name. Had he asked? He wasn't sure. He'd been half drunk—and she was high—and she hit at him at the bar, and he bought her a drink, then in a twirl they found themselves in the toilet.

Well, certainly it'd been a while. Quickies in filthy bar toilets would work fine before the turn, when you didn't have to deal with the morning afters, but now it'd be just a dumb mistake. He could be a damn liar if he said the thought had never ever crossed his mind, especially when the Woodbury's people had joined them, but it'd just complicate things, and Daryl had always _hated_ when things got complicated.

No, he liked his shit simple, basic.

He checked the last blot. It must be some sort of cabin fever. Beth was a pretty girl—young and beautiful, very _young_, he reminded himself, a beauty of long slender legs, thin, curved waist, small but firm bust—very _pretty_, yes. Perhaps lust had gotten the best of him. It'd pass away, it always do. At the end, the red haze of lust always waned, mostly leaving you with regrets. Daryl didn't do regret well.

He'd done the best, so he told himself. Beth was a smart girl, she would understand…eventually. Hell, she would even write him a thank you note too when she did.

Carol found him just before he stood to take in the woods. She followed him, and without a word Daryl let her. They treaded over the paths slowly, Daryl placing the traps, Carol watching him. It was getting late in the fall, the foliage was heavier now with fallen leaves, covering the dirt on the ground almost in inch. The air thought was better—cooler even sun was still warm in the sky, but nights were typically getting colder. The temperate differences were giving them a hard time—by the day, they were as wet as a sodden mutt under the sun, then at nights their asses were freezing.

As she walked beside him in silence, having his back, Carol had that look over her face, that contemplative preoccupation hanging thickly around her like a morning fog. Inwardly, Daryl sighed. "Why dontcha say what's on your mind?" he asked.

Carol shrugged, and gave him a look. "I—I just feel like… I don't know…like hypocrites."

Faltering a step, he turned aside toward her, "What?"

"People at Grady—" she said, "We all call them insane for believing Dawn, for believing they will get rescued somehow at the end, and things could go back to normal, but weren't we the one who was ready to try to save the world just a couple of days ago?"

Starting walking again, he shook his head, "Nah… we never believed in it. We just had to try."

Carol gave him another look as he bent down to set up another snare. "I don't know. Some of us really did." Her eyes found his under his bowed head as he checked the metal mechanism, "Maggie _did_."

Snap! And he fell right into the trap. _Nicely played, Carol, nicely played._ "Why did you let her take your place?" she asked.

"She's her sister."

"She asked _you_ when she woke up," she reminded him, as if he could forget.

He grunted out with a half shrug in response, standing up. "Did you tell her?" Carol pressed on, "Did you tell her you were leaving with us?"

He gave out another grunt-shrug. "_Daryl_…" Carol sighed out. He started pacing away, "You need to talk to her," she told him at his back.

No, he certainly did not need to do that. In fact, he just needed to do the damn opposite. He fastened his pace, "What are you going to do then?" Carol said, quickening her steps to catch him.

"Nothing," he rasped out, "I ain't doing nothing."

_Period_. It would pass away, it would, in time, it would. He just needed to wait until… A snap of twigs, a soft shifting of the fallen leaves—like something was dragging—limping.

Alert, he spun around, raising his crossbow on his shoulder. A lone walker emerged out of a massive trunk of an old elm tree—dragging his dead weight towards them, slumbering—his arms dangling at his sides aimlessly.

Well, that was familiar, easy as pie. He raised the bow a bit higher on the left, and took an aim—then on a sudden urge he lowered it. He twisted the weapon, catching at the side, and charged at the dead walking—bristling with the anticipation—and hit at his face.

It swayed on his feet, but stayed—still swaying aimlessly—and he could sense Carol's eyes on his back, almost rolling her eyes at him… But it didn't matter—because the second hit brought the fucking dead corpse on the ground, wailing—trying to catch him. He kicked it at his side—and again—and again—before he smashed off his brain.

And it felt fucking _good_.

# # #

For the first time in her life, Beth felt like she was…dumped, which was kind of not true, too, because in reality there wasn't anything to be dumped off of.

The thought was so bizarre she didn't even know if she cried her heart out or laughed hard—maybe she should do both. Could she really get dumped of a relationship that hadn't even started yet? Wait a minute, did she even want a relationship with Daryl? Then why the hell she was feeling just like this, heartbroken, as if someone had put a knife in her chest, and broke the poor thing in half.

It hurt, she knew hurt was the deal of the package, but she had no idea.

It was cruel, just cruel, and Daryl she knew could be many things, but he was never cruel. So why did he hurt her like this? Why did he act like he cared, made her feel happy, made her feel special, made her feel hope again so deeply, then left without an explanation?

She knew he was never good with emotions, only a fool could not realize that, and Beth _was_ no fool. She knew he had issues with intimacy, with getting people close—but God, who didn't now? And hadn't they already had this fight once?

_You two boyfriends died and you couldn't even shed a tear._

A nagging doubt suddenly appeared in her mind. Was he—was he afraid she was emotionally unavailable like she had been with Zach? He'd seen her with Zach, and yes, she hadn't wanted to get close—didn't want to make herself vulnerable like that again, but it was different with him. How he could not see that?

Oh, dear god, she did fuck this up too? Maybe he thought her too much of damaged goods now? Maybe last night was just an act of mercy, because he pitied her—and wanted to help her feel better, but nothing else. All the stuff she had felt—she had believed—they were just in her head.

She tried to remember all the stuff she had read in Cosmo Girl before the turn. At fifteen, her best friend had fallen with this jerk from one of the upper classes. As her experience barely accountable, Beth didn't know how she could help her, and Maggie had started college, so she had bought every piece of Cosmo issues she could get her hands on, trying to find something—anything useful to help her friend.

It wasn't going anywhere—but she wasn't listening, much to Beth's chagrin, as she kept telling her friend to stop and get out—once she even found a movie with a title _He's just not that into you—_

She stopped in her thoughts. _He's just not that into you—_

Perhaps that was it, the answer—perhaps she'd read him all wrong—his affections, his gentleness, his care—yeah, he cared for her, but not _that_ much.

Another twig of hurt slipped into her—the bitter taste of rejection, and she felt unwanted, undesirable. Maybe he didn't find her attractive, maybe he thought her just as an obnoxious teenager—loud and bitchy—like—like—_some dumb college bitch._

A sudden anger swept her like a forest fire. If she was that repulsive, then maybe—maybe he shouldn't have looked at her that way, shouldn't have told spoken to her like that, shouldn't have—she didn't know—tried to kiss her perhaps?

For a moment, she really felt good that she'd thrown up on him. "Serves you just right," she mumbled out as Maggie walked in the exam room, carrying her wheel chair.

She almost let out a groan. Her bigger sister was giving her those suspicious looks and Beth didn't like them. Just the thought itself disturbed her—the notion of talking to her—to anyone anything about the…_thing_ between herself and Daryl, and she had no idea why. It felt like she was put under a microscope, and she was getting dissected, cutting up. Perhaps Daryl had feared for the same too, the same scrutinizing, and gotten cold feet, and dodged out.

That felt more like him, honestly. And hadn't he told her her he was old _enough_? The remark had come out as a warning, and it had been, he had been warning her.

Still, he shouldn't have left like this—not saying a word. It was rude, and annoying, and she didn't like it. They needed to talk. Running away like this was childish, and dammit, being old enough he was the one who was supposed to be mature, _not her._

"How are you?" Maggie asked, her eyes squinted in trepidation. Beth really wanted to groan. "Glenn waits us in the cafeteria," she said, bringing the chair to the bed.

As Noah was staying, Shepherd let another person stay in his stead, so, Daryl didn't need to leave for Maggie's sake. It was just like—twisting the blade further in her heart.

She shook her head at the wheel chair. "I don't want it. I'm fine. I'll walk."

It made her feel weak, the last thing she needed at the moment. She looked down at her hospital gown, too. She was bored with wearing hospital garment. She wanted clothes—the real ones. She lifted her head up, "Can you ask where my old clothes are? The ones I've been wearing when they brought me. I want them back. I'm sick of these." She gestured at herself.

They walked in the hallway towards cafeteria in silence until Maggie broke it off with a huff. "Is he—has he really done ghosting on you?"

Her head snapped at her sister. "Done on me what?" Beth asked.

"_Ghosting_—" Maggie repeated, "You know—breaking off by suddenly disappearing—no calls, no texts, no warnings."

She turned her head away. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"What's happening between you two?" Maggie pressed further.

"Nothing," Beth said, in a tone she hoped was enough dismissive. She really didn't want to talk it with her—with anyone on that matter, anyone but Daryl.

"Really?" Maggie went on though, clearly not reading her reluctance in the matter, "Because where I stand, it _really_ looks like something's happenin'".

Then she could fairly say she'd snapped, she really did, "Look, when I said we're okay, what I _really_ meant was that I don't care. You wrote me off as death, you left me behind, so when I say nothing, what I _really_ mean is actually nothing that interests you. _So_ please just take the hint, leave me the fuck alone."

She breathed out a big huff after her tirade, and assumed walking away from her sister.

Well, wasn't that felt good?

# # #

The rest of the week passed without any further…accident. Shepherd had come to her once, making a crude remark about the lack of one certain runner—telling her something even in the end of the world, it was good to see that some things stayed the same.

"He's trouble," Shepherd had warned her then, "I'd say stay away, but something telling me you won't listen."

Beth pretended not to understand what she'd meant.

Maggie… Maggie was wary now. She was stepping around her like—like Beth was a wounded animal that needed a special care, a wounded animal that would bite your head off because of her pain.

Beth wished she hadn't done it—she really didn't want to deal with this, and she didn't want to act like a bitch just because of Daryl Dixon had left without saying a word. Beth Greene was never someone like that. It irked her that she was really—evolving to something else, like she was turning to the dark swan from the white one, the dark, evil twin sister. It all made her angrier at Daryl, because she knew if he'd been here with her, things would have been different. _She_ would have been different—_but_ _you can't depend on anyone for anything_, _right?_

Stupid, stupid, stupid man.

At the last night she was in the hospital, she was bristling with anticipation. She wanted to go back, she really wanted to put all of this away, like—like some bad memories in the distant, now only ashes. They'd burned the shaft, she had to move on, now. _You gotta put 'em away, places like this—you gotta put 'em away, or it'd kill you._

She was damn right about that, too.

Her eyes caught her clothes on the armchair next to the door across the bed. She'd folded her clothes and put them there—her yellow shirt, now clean—as much as clean it could be with still blood stains, and her jeans and cowboy boots. The sight of them was making her much more relaxed, as if once she put them on, she could finally be herself once again, Beth Greene. She'd put her scissor under her pillow, though. She kinda got attached to it, the security it brought to her, the thought of being there—a certain constant in the raging storm-a sort of protecting—her lifeline-. Each morning she woke up now her hand under the pillow, her fingertips briefly touching it.

She slipped down her hospital gown and put her clothes back on. She went to the bed. She wanted to sleep with her own clothes for her last night in the hospital, perhaps a little defiance. She lay down on the bed, gazing at the ceiling, feeling at lost what to feel. She wished she could just lose consciousness and woke up again in the morning, ready to leave. The mornings were easy, nights were just…heavy. But sleep was eluding her— She passed in her mind the notes of all the songs she knew—she even tried to compose one—just a single melody—something she would perhaps try if she could ever had any chance to see a piano again—and slowly drifted into the dreamland…then in the middle of the night woke up with screams outside in the hallway, her hand clasping the scissor tightly.

Then she heard the snarls… She jolted up awake, raising the scissor high—she ran to the door—put her ear on the surface and listened— screams were followed by shots—and moans and snarls she could recognize from everywhere.

They were—they were under attack—she couldn't understand how—but the dead had breached inside. Madly, she put on her cowboy boots, and holding the scissor she carefully opened the door ajar, and peeked out.

The hallway from other side was covered with three walkers—and she recognized one of them—a limping, old, battened figure-even limping in his health—Percy. What'd happened, what the hell happened?

She quickly darted out at the other direction, running away from the walkers. She could deal with one, and perhaps with two, but she was not going to take her chances with three all at once in such a close environment with only a scissor. She wished she had her knife and gun.

She needed to find Maggie and Glenn. They had to leave. She had to find them.

And Noah. She still could not leave Noah here with walkers. At least not before she knew he was okay. She found Maggie and Glenn rushing towards her in the hallway, clearly thinking of finding her the same.

"What happened?" Maggie asked, "Where did they come from?"

Beth shook her head, "I don't know. I saw Percy but. He's turned."

"Hmphf," Maggie answered, and asked, "Do you have your gun?"

Beth shook his head. "No. Just this." She held up the scissor.

Maggie nodded. "We don't ours, either. The bitch doesn't let us carry them." She paused for a second, her eyes taking a mop on the floor, the long staff. She took it and pulled out the brush's fringes forcefully. She brought the long staff on her knees then, breaking it in the middle, and handed one piece to Glenn. "Okay, so, what's the plan?" she asked, holding her half staff, testing it, sweeping in the air.

"I need to find Noah first."

"No," Maggie immediately protested, lowering her new, crude weapon, "No, he made his decision. You don't need to protect him now."

"It's different," Beth protested back, "We can't leave him here like this." She gestured around with her head. It was getting worse. The screams were getting louder and louder.

Wards were not able to protect themselves, they never had to. They wouldn't make it, she thought, a pang of bitterness filling in her inside. A part of her wanted to save them, but the other part knew they could not survive this world. Not anymore. Not because they were weak, no, because they never believed that was what they had to.

"The makeshift armory is on the way to Noah's room," Glenn said, coming between them, bringing a peace offer and a solution as always, "We need guns. We can pick up Noah too on the way. We can find ourselves a way out from there."

Quickly, Beth nodded, and slowly Maggie followed. Before the hallway ended they came across with one of the newly turned walkers, a ward she'd spoken once or twice with a quick smile. She was leering towards them now, glazed blue eyes reddened—a piece of guts dangling at the corner of her mouth. Maggie pushed forward, held it at her neck, and stabbed her at the brain with her staff.

Beth felt—sad. They caught another one on the way, around a corner, tumbling at her—trying to clawing at her flesh—to take a bit—she pressed him away from her, hands on its chest—trying to keep it from herself and putting some distance for the thrust as she raised the scissor and nailed in in the walker's eyes.

Dark, rancid blood ran across her hand—and she pulled it back and went in again for extra measure to make sure—blood this time sputtering out of the dead body—at her shirt and hair, a jet of dark red.

It was impossible to stay in this world.

She stopped in front of Noah's room and knocked it forcefully. "Noah, it's me. Come out. We're going out. Come."

Much to her relief, Noah opened the door.

His face was pale dark—dim off, he stood at the threshold. She took his hand, and they started running at the armory—and threw themselves in.

Inside they found Shepherd with Lamson—her auburn hair usually pulled up in bun this time open, falling over her shoulders as she was partly clad with her uniform—a basic grey tee and pants—she even looked younger, if not blood stains over her cheeks. Seeing the normally composed officer like this made things even worse—danger bells ringing hard in her.

"What happened?" Beth questioned as Maggie and Glenn went for the guns.

"Percy—" Shepherd answered, "He passed away in his sleep, and turned. No one noticed until it was too late."

"We need to get out of here—" Maggie cut in, "Now."

Shepherd shook her head, "No. My people—I need to get back to them."

Beth shook her head. "We saw them in the corridors, Shepherd, they're dying," she coolly stated. She wished they were any easier way to say it, but there wasn't.

She saw a shoulder holster on the wall and strapped it across her chest over her cardigan. She placed two guns at each side as Maggie and Glenn started picking other guns and knives inside a bag they'd found in the room.

There were guns—a lot of them, the cache of officers, they were even some meds stocked at the shelves. And Maggie and Glenn were picking _all_ of them. "What're you doing?" Shepherd barked out, pulling her gun, the sight of them picking up her arsenal getting her out of her stupor, "They're ours."

Beth drew her gun too, and leveled it at her. "It's done, Shepherd. This place is a death trap. We need them." She took a step closer to the officers, "You can come with us," she offered, even shocking herself with the suggestion, "Both of you."

Shepherd let out a bitter laugh. "Your people would just put a bullet in my head, Beth."

"No, we wouldn't," Beth objected, but Maggie looked doubtful, "Rick will take it rough," she continued, admitting, "But he will let you stay."

Shepherd shook her head. "We'll take our own chances," she said, "Guns now."

"You're outnumbered," Beth countered, "Don't be stupid. Lower your gun."

But she didn't. Then Lamson said, "Do it. I want to go with them."

Shepherd's look snapped at her colleague. "No!"

"Look at us—look at them," the male officer said, "They know how to survive better than we do. I want to. I want to survive. I'm going with them." He dropped his gun.

"We're losing time," Maggie said, standing up taking the bag from the floor, "We gotta go."

"Shepherd?" Beth called.

Seething a hiss, the policewoman lowered her own, too.

# # #

They made it out killing walkers whenever—where ever they saw, rushing down from the stairs but outside wasn't any better. By the time they reached to the parking garage, her clothes were soaked with blood and pieces of rotten dead —her hair tangled with sweat and dirt but the adrenaline to stay alive was running high in her veins. Suddenly she found it simpler—perhaps not easier—staying alive like this was not easy, but it was simpler. You do what you gotta do with the walkers. There was no confusion, no second guesses, no complications.

It was with people things got complicated.

They'd found two other wards on the stairs, trying to escape but were about to get eaten, so now they were eight people, crowded into an old station wagon Volkswagen—trying to get the hell away from the city of the dead.

Glenn was driving, so Maggie was beside him—Beth squeezed between her and the door, her head pressed on the window—dark night—no stars or moonlight.

She was going back home.

* * *

_A/N: Well, I can't help myself, I brought Shepherd, too! But only because I've just liked writing her, but because Beth needs someone who only has a connection to her, specially with her...like Tara to Glenn._

_The church has still not overrun yet, in case that you didn't notice, ugh. I think the story basically will follow the canon's cornerstones, like them arriving to Alexandria, but I can change everything along the way when I see fit it._


	14. Chapter 14

XIV

Daryl passed the rest of the week in the woods on his own, away from the others as he waited for Beth's return, trying to convince himself that he'd done the best thing, all the same while getting pissed at himself why he was _still_ thinking over it. That shit was not him. He'd made up his mind. Second guessing a decision was a bloody waste of time, something Dixons didn't do.

Yet somehow each time in the middle of a game—or a setting up a snare—or putting down a walker—his mind suddenly, quite dumbly went astray—and he found himself—_thinking_, not about food, not about water, not about shelter, not about the broken twigs or fallen leaves, not even the threats that might lurk ahead of him, but _her_.

That shit wasn't _him_, either, hell, he didn't even think like himself—like he'd gone sort of out—his own damn character-but fuck it, didn't everyone yammer about how stupid one could get when he fell in love. That really felt like it. He'd fallen love and his IQ had dropped like—fifty points. God, he was a bloody idiot, because on rare occasions he even thought of how a life with her would be like—having her all the time with him—holding her hand, kissing her, going to sleep with her—fucking-

Usually that's where he stopped the thoughts…before they went out of the control. It'd pass away in time, he told himself for the millionth time—he just needed to cool off-give himself some time.

It'd dawned on him after the night he'd found her in the elevator shaft, and helped her burn her own demons, and she'd held his hand tightly then had kissed his check before she left him. Watching her vanish behind her door, Daryl had got it. It had to stop. At all cost.

What a redneck asshole like himself would give someone like Beth Greene? What he had to offer her other than a scarred past, a fractured self, and a whole lot of shit baggage? It wasn't worth the trouble. _He_ wasn't worth the trouble. He wasn't a man would give what a girl like Beth Green would need. Fuck, even when she needed it the most, he wasn't capable of giving it to her, even if he tried. And fuck him good he _had_ tried—He'd taken her in his arms, had let her cry at his chest, had caressed her hair—and almost had a panic attack.

He could still remember how trapped he felt holding her tightly in his arms, close at his chest, how his breath ran out—world trying to squeeze in his insides—how he wanted to escape—get away—just like he'd done. He'd pushed her away—mumbling something about finding clothes, and got the hell out of the room. No, Beth deserved more than this.

And she must've known it, too—perhaps not on a conscious level, but she must've at least sensed it, there was that baffled expression over her face in the funereal home when she'd realized what his silence had meant—as if she didn't know what to do with that particular knowledge, that astonished 'oh'-and—and when—when he'd leaned to kiss her later in the clinic—she had panicked, too.

That throwing up, he just damn knew, wasn't only because of the nausea. The idea of him kissing her got her so alarmed her upset stomach couldn't handle it, she'd thrown up, then looked like shit because of it—shocked and embarrassed, and that same baffled lost expression across her face—

He'd really done the best, clear as sky, obvious as fuck.

Because despite of her scare and confusion, Daryl also knew there was something else within her—that affection, a sort of camaraderie, companionship, and he knew how much she trusted in him—the way she'd held his hand—the way she'd kissed his cheek—perhaps she was scared, but she was _also_ intrigued. He had to be an utter idiot not to see it.

Some days he thought of leaving—_definitely_ leaving, too. He could just take his backpack and slipped off in the woods. He'd always been a lone wolf, he could survive, but he didn't want to, the thought of being there alone was something he couldn't dare to take a chance again, he'd admitted it. Sick as it was, the first time in his life he belonged to somewhere, he was a part of something—He didn't want to lose it. Not again. And he didn't want to lose Beth, either. She was his light—even though he couldn't catch it. He was okay with it. He wasn't supposed to catch it. Just it being there was enough for him. Just Beth being there—so close to him but out of his reach was enough for him. Her light would still shine on him. And maybe-just maybe—there would be a time once again she would sing to him before the sleep… It was a good dream.

Those naïve dreams brought another dread too, and another worry started nagging at him— how things would be now when she came back; would she be mad, would she be hurt and pulled back, would she try to talk to him, try to change his mind?

He didn't have no damn idea what to do with her—

_Nothing—I ain't doing nothin'…_

As the week passed, the feeling—the anticipation of seeing her again grew so gigantic for a while he really wanted to go—run away—so as with his anticipation and doubts, and second guessing, also his temper grew, killing more walkers than he could count—and seriously what the fuck was he doing? How more pathetic could he get? Somehow the question scared him now—because it felt like he was just beginning to see the answer.

So he was sitting for the night watch on the steps of church's entrance before the morning she was to come, crossbow between his legs, all the while trying to ignore all the voices in his head, trying not think how it was gonna be in the morning, how she would look, how she would act, trying and tremendously failing when a headlight of a car caught his attention at the driveway.

Swinging aside, he called out for Michonne who was at guard inside the church— "Michonne," he gave out a low shout for the woman, "Get Rick. We're getting company."

His bow rose on his shoulder, he straightened, getting into the defense position as a black station wagon Volkswagens stopped in front of the church, then seeing the white emblem just looked like a cross on the backside—he got relaxed.

Then panicked.

They were waiting them at the morning—why the hell they'd come in the middle of the night—when it was the most dangerous being outside—

His heart in his throat, fear surged through him. He'd left her there—he had left her there alone in that fucking place-and if something happened to her— The door of the passenger's side opened and she got out of it as the same time Maggie did for the same from the driver's seat…

…and his heart stopped.

Blood and dirt—she was covered with blood stains—_fresh_ blood stains—her clothes, her skin—her hair—her face. There were other people in the car too, people he couldn't see because he couldn't take his eyes off her face—blood stained face—

She was going to be death of him.

He rushed to her side. "Are ya okay?" he asked, breathless, fear coiling deep inside his stomach, roughing his voice into a rasp as his hand caught her at the upper arm, "What happened?"

At first she gave a lingering look at his hand on her then slowly her eyes found him. They were impassive as she stared at him, "Nothing."

He frowned. What the hell was that? Because some shit had definitely had happened, Maggie at the other side was in the same state too, covered with blood and guts… and he didn't like that dismissive tone when she'd answered… He opened his mouth but she beat him to it, "Where is Rick?" she asked, turning away from him with the same dismissiveness, pulling back, "I need to talk to him."

He arched an eyebrow, but at the moment the door of the backseat opened, and _she_ emerged out.

What the hell?!

Stupefied, he looked at Shepherd. "Yeah," Beth said beside him, her tone dripping wet with sarcasm, "_That_ happened."

She was really going to be the death of him, he thought, just before Rick stepped out of the church, marching down towards them, his lit eyes fixed at the damn policewoman, "Could someone explain me what the hell _she's_ doing here?"

Beside him, Beth sighed out heavily.

# # #

Turning her around, Rick pushed Shepherd against the car, checking her for hidden weapons as Daryl did the same for Lamson beside him. They both had still stupefied expressions over their face, mixed with anger, she figured, at her. She'd brought lions in their den. Inwardly, she gave off a mental shrug. She did what she had to. Well, she didn't exactly need to—she didn't need to help neither Shepherd nor Lamson, but she had wanted to.

She wondered if Dr. Edwards got bitten, too. She'd thought it on the way too, and hoped he had, she _really_ hoped he'd bitten. She also wondered if she would have helped him if she'd seen it, and knew the answer as soon as the thought appeared, no. She would not. She hadn't killed him, she hadn't wanted to, but it didn't mean she would save him. No, she would've gladly watched him getting bitten. In fact, she felt a bit bitter she hadn't gotten to see it happening. It was a thought she possibly shouldn't have had. She started doing a lot of things she shouldn't have in these days.

Finding her gun, Rick handed it to Michonne then pulled his elastic cuffs from his back pocket, and handcuffed Shepherd at the back. Shepherd hissed through her nose at the gesture but kept her silence. It was a double measure, and Beth knew Shepherd was thinking all the times she'd let them wander around in _her hospital_ furiously but Beth had warned her. This wasn't going to be a picnic. Rick pulled her away roughly, and started walking toward the church.

Beth and Daryl followed, Daryl dragging Lamson too in the same manner, Maggie and Glenn at their tails. At the steps of the church, Beth saw they were slowly gathering an audience.

She looked at the all unfamiliar faces. So many strangers. Was that home she had come back? Home wasn't a place anymore, but people you belonged to, so she belonged to these people's group now? The whole experience was making her feel like she was a stranger, the lost absent sister. She saw a redhead massively built man glaring at them openly at the first step, a dark haired petite woman beside him and a man with a funny hair cut. Another dark haired girl with a round plump face and a father were standing at the second step, all staring down at them, down at her. Where were her own people? Where were the kids?

Her eyes wandered—and she searched for Carl and Judith—and found them at the last step on the entrance, Carl and Carol, Judith in the latter's arms—For a moment, her feet stopped, and she looked at them, the next she started running.

She climbed the steps, making her way through the crowd—then took Judith in her arms. She hugged the baby girl tightly in her arms, as her other arm went to circle Carl. They were both alive. She rested her head on the baby's little neck carefully, pulling Carl closer to his side, and breathed in Judith's smell—"I'm so sorry, hun…" she whispered, "I'm so sorry—"

And Judith started crying… She pulled back an inch—releasing Carl and looked at the baby as she cried red- Suddenly it felt awful—Judith crying in her arms—it felt awful, why she was crying—she _wasn't_ a stranger…then Carol leaned down to take Judith away, "She's having a temper this week," Carol explained in earnest, "Having a teeth."

The older woman took her from her, lightly swinging her—Beth frowned. "Beth?" Rick called at her as they passed through the entrance, "We need to talk."

Slowly, she nodded and followed them. Rick led them into the management office at the back of the church. Funny how fate had brought to her a church when there was only one prayer left to her now. _Please, don't let me die…_ On the walls, she saw scripts written-and one caught her attention-_as they were afraid, and bowed down their faces to the earth, they said unto them, why seek ye the living among the dead?_

She remembered Percy. Didn't all of them belong to the dead now? All their life was on a borrowed time before they turned one of them, wasting days before they became one of them. No one bit Percy, no one killed him. He just died peacefully in his bed and turned to one of them. Rick and Daryl pushed the officers inside, and then Daryl closed the door when they were all inside.

"What happened?" Rick questioned in a demanding voice, dropping Shepherd at a corner like a sack. She lifted her head and tossed her loose hair out of her face, all the while glaring at Rick. The look in her deranged state was even more threating, but expectedly Rick was having none of it.

"Life happened," Beth remarked then, and it was truth, nothing but life happened, "Percy passed away in sleep. No one noticed it before it was too late."

Daryl and Rick shared a look, and Beth didn't miss it. The same thing had happened once in the prison and they'd averted an utter disaster at the last moment. But like Shepherd had said, Grady wasn't lucky to have a Rick and Daryl. The fate of the hospital made it to her quite clear.

"My conscience happened, that's it," Shepherd seethed through her teeth, pulling her legs under her, rising on her legs, her arms restrained behind her back, and the hiss in her tone wasn't only because of her condition, Beth knew, "I _should've_ kicked out his old sorry ass."

But she wasn't really helping her case here. "Shut up!" Beth snapped at her, turned to Rick, "The hospital was overrun. We couldn't leave them there."

Maggie cut in, "We met them in the armory, the wards we picked up on the way."

Rick shook his head. "I'm not talking about the wards. I'm talking about them," Though as he talked in plural, he pointed at Shepherd with his head. "Why did you bring them?"

"Lamson wanted to come with us," Maggie said with as shrug, "He forced her hand."

Rick's eyes skipped at Shepherd, "So she didn't _even_ want to come!"

"Look," Beth said talking a step closer to Rick, "I gave her my word. I promised her you'd let her stay."

"Yeah," Shepherd talked, looking up at them, "Whereas I told her you'd just put a bullet in my head."

Beth threw at her a glare—which she hoped was saying, _could you just shut the fuck up?_ Rick took a threating step towards Shepherd, towering her where she sat on the floor, "Tell me a reason why I'd let ya stay?" he asked, "For all the time we were at your turf, you kept telling me you wanted us gone."

Shepherd sighed out then said, "I brought you guns and meds."

"_My people_ brought them."

"And I _let_ them—"Shepherd pointed out, "Beth told me not to be stupid, told me drop my gun. And I did. I was _very _reasonable. And if I wasn't, I guarantee you-" She gestured at Maggie and Glenn, "-one of them wouldn't have been here right now. I played nice. Dropped my gun, didn't hurt anyone. I trusted Beth."

Damn her but the damn woman was good, very good with manipulations, because Beth knew every word that had come out of her mouth was true, but also a lie. Yes, she'd been reasonable, she'd played nice, and hadn't hurt anyone, and yes, she'd trusted her, and added that little bit just to play _their_ _conscience_, but Beth knew if she saw it fit her own interests, she would betray them without a blink of eye. She knew it, so why the hell she wanted to help her? Why the hell she'd brought this slippery, manipulative snake of a woman in the middle of her family, putting everyone at a risk, promising her all the while that she would keep her safe.

She was looking at Shepherd, trying to understand, and Shepherd was looking at Rick in an open challenge, and Daryl was looking at her—with a heated look at his face. He was possibly thinking she'd gone mad. Maybe she did, sometimes she couldn't tell.

"I gave her my word," she then repeated again, mostly to herself.

Rick knelt down in front of Shepherd on one knee, looking at her directly in the eyes, his hand rising his knife over her face, "If you go behind my back even a tiniest bit, if you try to pull something—one little, smallest thing that would put anyone here in jeopardy, I'll kill you myself. Are we clear?"

Shepherd nodded curtly, but Rick wasn't satisfied, "Are we clear?" he asked again.

This time, she answered with a hiss, "Crystal."

Nodding, Rick reached out over her shoulder and cut the handcuffs, "And no guns. I don't want to see you with guns."

With that, he stood up and left the management office. Michonne dutifully followed him as Daryl bent down and cut Lamson's cuffs too. Maggie and Glenn left the room too, and she wanted Daryl go as well, but he was staying where he stood, looking at her intently with a stern look, like he wanted to shout at her face and barely could contain himself.

Oh god, not this, not now. She couldn't deal with it, not now. And were they really going to do this? After the stunt he had pulled on her. He had no rights to be mad at her now, not after he'd made sure he didn't want to get involve with her in any kind. "Go," she told him, twisting aside, and pointed at Lamson too, "Take him too. I want to talk with her."

Staring at her, he didn't move. She just didn't want to deal with it. Everything was as enough complicated as it was, trying to live in a world where you could go to the bed and died peacefully in your sleep, and turned on the people you cared. That world didn't need any further complications. "Please, just go," she said with a small voice, and added, "We'll talk later."

Then he did, without a word, he nodded, and left the room. She then realized she wanted them to be whatever they'd been all before the prison's fall, when Daryl Dixon's name only meant her an eccentric man she couldn't understand, but knew she would always find him there when it was needed. That was how it should be. All the rest she was just going to ignore it.

When they were alone, clearing her thoughts, Beth fixed her eyes at Shepherd as the woman stood resting her back against the wall, rubbing her hands over her wrists. "Life _really_ would be a lot easier if we didn't have this damn conscience," she said, almost wearily, and a veiled contempt in her voice, but she wasn't sure at whom it was directed.

Beth knew then. Like the doctor, she would've left Amanda Shepherd behind, wouldn't care if she died or not. But she hadn't. She was a scheming, manipulative, self-serving woman who would play with you mind games to steer you in the paths she wanted you to be, but there was still a goodness left in her—a sort of humanity worth to save. Perhaps it was really a hero complex, or perhaps she was just being a fool again, but she didn't care. She had to believe that.

"You heard him, Amanda," so Beth warned her again, her first name sounding strange on her tongue, but somehow still sounding right, and she had to warn her because she was what she was, and Rick was what he was, and because Beth wanted her to understand it too, "If you really play nice, you can have a place here. You know how _lucky_ is to have a Rick and Daryl in this world, but if you mess this up, he kills you."

The woman looked at her knowingly, one those smiles of hers on her lips—the corner of her lips turned upwards with a dry contempt and amusement, and Beth wondered once again, why, why the hell did she let her come with them? She turned and started walking to the door. "So it's _me_ you want to save this time?" The policewoman asked behind her back, almost laughing.

"_Don't_ make me regret it," she shot back before leaving her alone.

# # #

Daryl was furious.

Not because she had yet again managed to bring herself in the middle of a crisis, bringing with herself that scheming bitch, showing up in the middle of the night covered with walker blood and guts, not because she'd said they would talk later but never made any attempt, not because it felt like she was pretending he didn't exist, but because she didn't look like—she cared.

She didn't damn look like she cared that he'd left her at the hospital, not one damn bit.

All the time he'd wondered if she would be mad, if she would be hurt, pulled back, or tried to change his mind, or something, now it just looked like she hadn't even noticed him leaving.

They were at the church's wooden staircase—Daryl was busing himself with his stuff a few steps away from them before he bailed out to the woods. It was getting ridiculous here and he wasn't sure if he could hold on his anger a minute later if he saw her looking at him with disinterest in that way again, like he didn't matter, like whatever they had between them didn't fucking matter. The people from Grady was around too, checking the grounds and wooden-walled church, as Beth sat with Shepherd on the steps, who looked almost demure for a change, a few others with them.

And Abraham was having one of his episodes, his hand clutching the half bottle of whiskey, half drunk or half crazy, sometimes it was hard to tell. "Attestupa-" he remarked surly in deep concentration, "In Viking's tradition, the elderly are expected to drop a bungee jumping over a cliff to meet their gods." Daryl's eyes snapped up from his net toward the man. The redhead maniac was looking at Beth and Shepherd, "Don't seem such monkey nuts now, they're?"

He shook his head, standing up, "Gotta love this shithole dick of a world…" and started walking away.

Beth looked after him, a frown over her brows. "What's—what's wrong with him?"

It was Carol who answered her with a sigh, "He's in depression, don't mind him. He thought he was saving the world."

His eyes swept to Carol and he looked at the woman glaringly, why the hell she had opened up that topic. "They were—" He jumped on his feet, lifting the snares over his shoulder, "I'm gonna set the snares," he announced, cutting off Carol.

Carol looked at him with an amused look, as if she knew why he had interrupted her— Daryl turned her eyes to Beth, and asked "Wanna help?" with a voice he damn hoped was light enough, because he felt every inch of muscle in his body strained, every eye in the group on him—because he never asked anyone to join him, and he never stood like an idiot and stared at anyone like he'd fucking forgotten how to speak.

But for Beth, he did. Because he didn't want her to learn about the whole save the world stupidity yet, and he wanted to talk to her—needed to make sure if she was okay-if they were okay, this was _ridiculous_ and she'd said they would talk later but never come again and Daryl had come to an understanding that he hadn't realized before about himself; he didn't like to be ignored.

But looking at him, Beth shook her head. "Nah, I'm good. Thanks." She then turned her head away, told something to Carol as if he wasn't there—and all the remaining reason in the world left him there.

He took two quick steps further towards them, and grabbed Beth on her wrist, and yanked her up at her feet. "Wh—what-?" she sputtered out as he pulled her at his side.

"Shut up," he hissed at her, "Don't make a scene."

"You _already_ did."

His fingers were still tight around her slim wrist as he dragged her towards the tree line, feeling the back of his neck burning with looks directed at him—and he could swear he heard the derisive chuckle of the damn woman behind him, but he didn't care. They were going to talk. _Period._

"Have ya gone mad?" Beth questioned, as he threw her off in the first clearing he found away from the church, her voice reduced to a contained shrill, "What was that?"

"You're ignorin' me, why?" he asked back.

She looked at him, stupefied. "I'm doing what?"

"You're ignorin' me."

"Are you serious?" she asked, frowning, disbelief thinning her voice even further, "Am I ignoring you?"

_Yes_. "You said we'd talk later," he reminded her, "Then never came."

She let out a deep breath, as if she was trying to calm herself—and he didn't want her to calm herself. He wanted her to yell at him—he wanted her to scream at him-hit at him, call him a sonofabitch— everything, but not this, not this cool, indifferent demeanor like it didn't matter what he did. "'kay," she swallowed, and looked at him, a kind look in her eyes, a gentle small on her lips, kind and gentle, and fake.

"Is there something you wanted to talk to me?" she inquired mildly, fake smile and look, and all.

"Stop it," he warned.

"You said you wanted to talk. What do you want to talk about?"

"Beth, _stop_ it."

In silence, she merely looked at him, waiting. There was no smile on her face now, just a bare look, indifferent but it was better than the fake kindness. She raised her hands at her side, and looked at him questionably, "Daryl, are you okay?" she then asked, her voice this time almost concerned.

He gave out an incredulous laugh. "You gotta be fucking kidding him." He shook his head, then glared at her, "Is this some sort of a game, girl?" He walked into her, stepping into her personal space, "Are ya—messing up with me?"

She looked at him directly in the eyes, "I'm not following you."

He took another step in, his chest lightly touching at hers, "Are ya messing up with me?"

A anger finally flashed in her eyes, and he felt…relief. "Don't ignore me," he told her, and asked, "ain't we still friends?"

Her look turned defiant, questioning, "Are we?"

He didn't hesitate. "Yes."

Slowly, letting out a breath, she nodded. "Friends then, eh?"" she asked, offering her hand to him.

He took it, holding in his palm, "Always."

A genuine smile lifted her lips upwards, and, for a moment, the shithole fucked up world looked a much better place.

* * *

_A/N: I didn't finish watching all the seasons but did something like this ever happen in canon, someone just dying in sleep without any cause? Because you know...it does happen all the time, even for young people, and while I watched the episodes, I was curious why no one ever thought of it-aside the disease plot in the prison and I wanted to use it here, didn't want Grady go down in a spectacular way but a simplistic way of having someone just dying in his sleep. _

_I struggled a bit to decide what reaction Beth would give after seeing Daryl again, this happened at the end almost on its account, so they settled down in a sort of...a tangled friendship._

_And still, having so much fun writing Shepherd, heh. That line with having a conscience, if memory serves me right, was a quote from Selina Kyle. I remember it reading, but too lazy to check right now._


	15. Chapter 15

XV.

In the following week, with an ease that shocked Beth to her core, they developed a routine. Each morning after the sun broke up, she woke up, prepared her backpack as Daryl prepared his stuff and in the same hour they left for the woods. He hadn't invited her to join him the next morning after their talk, but just looked at her in a way that she'd chosen to interpret like he had, so she'd tagged along, feeling a bit unease but before the midday arrived it'd worked itself out.

Beth was glad, more than she could tell, and she felt Daryl was the same, too. It came to her after what had happened in the last days they both yearned for this simplicity. They all seemed to yearn for it, Beth had also noticed. There was something in the air, a tense waiting as if they were at an interim, waiting to step into the next phase but just couldn't decide. All in honesty, more than anything they were dawdling. No one talked about it, of course, it was another silent agreement that they were waiting for Rick's decision, so no one questioned it, no one but Shepherd, _of course,_ but it was a whole another matter.

Between them there were those poignant sudden silences in the talks when they talked about what happened after the prison had fallen. Beth had also realized that no one really wanted to talk about what had happened all that much; only little tidbits the redhead military guy liked to drop every now and while half drunk, but nothing else. They all wanted to move on, she guessed, put whatever demons they had faced in those days behind them. As Daryl kept saying all the time; what happened, happened. No need for wallowing in misery. _We gotta live_. The rather pink elephant between her and Daryl was still in the room, but for the time being they were good at ignoring it. She'd figured out that she'd become rather good at ignoring things she didn't want to see.

But then again, _that_ had always been her specialty; she was the queen of closing her eyes at the harsh realities of the life, pretending otherwise. _They're still alive,_ she'd told Daryl, then they'd found Luke's little demolished body, _there are still good people_, she'd said then she'd found herself in a trap, then at Grady. Her thoughts brought her to the little issue that was Shepherd. It seemed Beth never learned her lessons, but she didn't care. At the end she was right. Her people were alive, they had found each other, she had come out Grady alive, and there were _still_ good people in the world, whether Shepherd was one of them or not was something they would see at the end. Aside from _that_ episode from last night, she also seemed to behave. At least, she hadn't started plotting for anyone's demise yet. As far as she knew…

Clearing her thoughts, she focused on the dead weight on her shoulder as she propped the crossbow across it and rechecked her aim again. So yeah, she was trying the crossbow again, she didn't know why. It wasn't a weapon she could really use. It was too heavy for her and she could not nock the mechanism back again after it was loose but she loved the idea of being ability to, and Daryl teaching it to her—standing right behind her—his breath hot and loaded at the side of her neck.

Yup, she was definitely enjoying it. The closeness of their bodies were sending hot surge of tingling feelings over her body, something in her stomach was twisting in a way disturbingly…satisfying. She thought this wasn't probably how friends made each other feel, but she decided to enjoy the sentiment as long as it lasted and then ignored later.

Sometimes she was very smart. "Be attentive," Daryl whispered from behind, sending shivers through her, and she wondered if he could sense it, but it didn't look like he did, "There's a light wind."

She adjusted the angle, as he took another step at her side, and reached out for the bow over her shoulder, lifting it a bit higher toward to left, "Adjust it or it'd mess with the trajectory. You gotta keep it on a direct line."

Easier to say than done, especially when there was a Daryl Dixon standing at your side, reaching out over your shoulder, whispering at your skin, but she kept those little tidbits to herself and instead flexed her finger on the trigger and loosed the tension at the lock mechanism, making the blot dart out of it with velocity. It made a wheezing shusssh in the air and dropped down in the earth next to the tree where a squirrel ran higher at the trunk.

_Oops._

With a huff, she lowered the weapon and handed it to Daryl. "Do you know I hit countless walkers at the bull's eyes while we were escaping from the parking garage?" she asked, frowning, "It seems my targeting skills only work against the imminent threat of death." She gave him a lopsided grin, "Sorry."

He gave her back a half smile, "Keep practicing."

"Yeah, practice makes it better, huh?"

Daryl grounded out a noncommittal voice, and she turned ahead, because her grin grew wider across her face. How much she had missed hearing that sound, deep but soft rumbling out of his chest. A warmness swept in her insides and she felt incredibly giddy, possibly more than she should have, and she had to remind herself the last time she had felt like this—all giddy and smarmy faces, she woke up in the next morning to a ghosting Daryl. The reality check worked fine and her giddiness left itself to a coolness, damping her warm, fuzzy feelings.

She still wasn't sure what had actually happened with that talk they'd last week. Looking backwards, it seemed to her now they hadn't _talked_ much of anything—aside him accusing her ignoring him—which was partly true—but she hadn't been ignoring him—not particularly him—she had been ignoring _the_ _whole_ situation really, but somehow they'd managed to be settled with…being friends.

It was the most bizarre conversation she had ever had, something she even could hardly call as one, but nevertheless, here they were—stumbling through the woods once again, snares and games—and easy banter, like…friends—so she supposed they were good.

An eastern breeze swooped in the air, whipping through her hair, and she felt the chill getting colder. She pulled the grey cardigan closer to herself and sighed. Shepherd was right, winter was upon them. "Shepherd was right," so she told Daryl, "winter soon will arrive. The church is no place to pass a winter. It'd be colder, and we're already too crowded. What are were going to do?"

Daryl shrugged, "We leave when Rick is ready."

"When?" she pressed on. The answer had sounded very vague.

"Soon."

She frowned. In times like this she felt there was really something he wasn't telling her—some secret stuff they all were keeping from her. She wondered if he'd answer if she asked directly, but somehow she couldn't bring herself to ask either. All things considered, what happened, happened, was a hell of a good mantra to tell yourself when you tried not to die in the apocalypse.

But…still… she also could _look and see… _Together with those sudden tense silences, there was also the running eyes—some glances between Glenn and Maggie and their new friend Tara, and Sasha's deep sorrow—her mourning, and those whispers in the dark—Terminus and all. Nope, whatever happened, happened, they all had to look ahead now.

"You tell her stop pushing around," Daryl remarked after a second, hanging his crossbow behind his back and starting turning back. It'd already passed midday. "She's pissing off Rick."

Beth let out a sigh. "I know. But I think she's right here. We gotta decide."

Daryl shook his head. "Nah… it ain't what she said. How she said it. She still thinks she's in the hospital, she got leverage. She gotta stop it."

Beth sighed. Amanda Shepherd was even pissing her most of the times, so Beth really understood the frustration she brought on Rick, especially with those wry looks and derisively amused smiles…but... "Do you think I made a mistake bringing her?" she asked then, finally.

Daryl shrugged, "I'unno. It was your decision. She's here now."

She passed her hand over a bush and let out a breath, "I think there's still some hope for her," she confessed, "In her way, she really tried to help them." Stopping, Daryl looked at her, "And when we found them in the armory, she was trying to get back to her people. I convinced her they were gone."

Daryl stayed silent for a while, and half nodded, "She's got…conscience."

She gave out a rueful smile, tired, "Do you think I'm being just optimistic or a moron?"

"Nah-don't worry, if you're wrong, we could always kill her," he said lightly, and she laughed.

"We're losing it," she said between laughter, "Totally losing it."

When they entered into church's ground again, Beth left Daryl looking for Judith—the baby was still having a rough time, was crying every time Beth tried to keep her small body in her arms. She went inside but before she could find the baby, she saw Shepherd marching toward her, Lamson beside her. Her hair was still loose, instead of her usual bun. And not the first time Beth wondered if she'd let it in that way as a way to remind her things weren't same anymore. If it was the reason, Beth hoped it would work bit better because it really looked like the policewoman needed to remember that she was not in _her_ hospital anymore.

"Where is he?" she demanded, standing in front of Beth at the threshold at the church, her eyes wandering around the grounds, "Where's that sonofabitch?"

Inwardly, Beth let out a sigh. "What's it?" she asked.

"He asked Lamson to take a watch at the trenches."

Beth looked at her, baffled, "Yeah?" All of them took watches, it was good news too, if he let her doing it—and they were police officers…

"We don't have guns!" Shepherd cut her thoughts, and Beth remembered, "He took them, and now he wants us to take _outer_ watches—" She paused, letting an angry breath out, "Without a gun."

Beth nodded. Okay, _that_ was bad. Outer watches were at the trenches a few feet away from the church's grounds. Going there without a gun…didn't seem like a good idea. "Okay," Beth said with a voice she hoped was a reasonable enough to get her calm down a bit, "let's find him. I'm sure we can talk over it, find a common ground—" But Shepherd's eyes were still wandering around, wasn't even listening her. Then finding him, walking side by side with Daryl—Shepherd climbed down the steps hurriedly and started walking to them purposely.

Beth dutifully followed with quick steps, Lamson treading after her. "What's _this_, Sheriff," Shepherd approached them asking with a cutting sarcasm, "Are you ripping off Dawn's plans for our early demise? Sending us off out hoping we could get killed?" She laughed, "I thought if you would want us dead, you could be at least original about it."

There was no humor in Rick's face, stoic as ever as he looked down at her. "What do you want, _Amanda_?" Rick asked sounding rather bored as the unsaid inclinations of the missing title while addressing her spoke in volumes.

Beth gave Daryl a look, willing him to understand. _This might not end well._ Shepherd's face became serious as she took a step closer to Rick, "Guns," she stated flatly, "We're _not_ going out there without guns."

"You don't need guns for walkers on watch. You have knives," Rick pointed out.

"What about people?"

"You have knives," he repeated.

Shepherd shook her head. "How many times you came groveling at me, _Rick_," she spat out his name, "to stay a bit longer in the hospital, and wasn't I always reasonable? Show me the same courtesy, will you?"

Rick came in on her, leaning down, "You took our guns, too!"

"I let you stay," she countered.

"So did I," Rick retorted, and pressed on, "And don't pretend you agreed out of goodness of your heart," Rick hissed, "You didn't have any other option. I had men backing me up. Turn around and _count_—how many men do you see now backing _you_ up?"

_None_, Beth passed in her mind and prayed that Shepherd would accept it. She wasn't in the hospital anymore. She didn't even have Lamson here. The other officer would have sided with Rick if things went south. Why she couldn't just see that, but kept pushing his buttons?

Shepherd swallowed, shaking her head, "You're just doing this because I pissed you off last night," she grunted out under her breath.

_Yes, and take the hint, don't push it_, Beth wanted to yell at her, but suddenly she felt bad—remembering her own time with Dawn. Rick would have never beaten her, but he could do just _this_ to teach her a lesson— _You're still not one of us. Don't piss me off. _Rick hadn't asked her questions yet. Beth was aware of it, so was everyone, and they knew what that meant, but Shepherd didn't.

"Rick—" Beth cut in, tossing a glance at Daryl before turning to Rick again, "It's not—" she started but Daryl cut her off, "I'll take the watch with Lamson," he stated, and turned to their leader, "Rick?" he questioned.

"Fine, I take it with her," Rick agreed, and turned to Shepherd again, "Satisfied?"

"I want my gun back." she seethed out.

"Want doesn't always get," Rick shot at her before turning around to walk away.

# # #

"I shouldn't have come here," Shepherd muttered out at the sky later in the night, leaned against the wooden wall of the church's backside, shaking her head, "Shouldn't have listened to you."

Beth was silent for a second, thinking then she told her, "It's still better than outside."

Shepherd laughed, bitter and acerbic, "Beth Greene, thy name is irony."

They had settled at the backside, a secluded part where no one bothered to come after the night. Shepherd had walked inside the church after her watch ended, her face color curdled milk, likewise rancid. Beth had asked how it'd gone and the older woman just had hissed with contempt, "I'm _still_ breathing." They had gone out in the night, because inside was so crowded with the night chill, and she knew Shepherd needed some time alone. She wished they had a drink. She wondered if they'd ask the military guy for it but she wasn't sure what Daryl would say if he caught her drinking without him. But Amanda Shepherd really looked like she needed a drink.

"Amanda—" Beth started, but the policewoman lifted her eyes up at her.

"They're hiding something," Shepherd stated placidly, "I don't know what, but they don't want us to learn."

That much Beth had already gathered, but Shepherd had that look in her eyes, so she had to warn her, again, because it looked like the damn woman just couldn't get it, "No. He warned you. You saw what happened tonight. _Don't_."

"It couldn't take long," Shepherd went on as if Beth hadn't talked, "That redhead idiot would just sing it if we tune it correctly."

"Amanda, just sit tight and wait. Play nice. He'll get around."

She snorted out. "Just sit tight and wait," she repeated derisively, "Until what he decides what to do with me… and give her a threat of looming death if she misbehaves."

Beth let out a sigh. "Rick—he's not like people in the hospital."

"So you say, but I'm not seeing it, really."

"You weren't playing nice there, either, Shepherd," Beth reminded her curtly, "don't act like you're all innocent victim now. I told you he will take it rough."

Shepherd shrugged, "So you did. But as ironic as it is you're right. It's still better than outside." She then looked at her intently, a searching look in her eyes. "Tell me, how it happened between you and Daryl?" the policewoman asked.

Beth sputtered out, "Wh-what?"

Shepherd rolled her eyes. "What did happen?" She repeated, smiling, "I don't suppose he runs after cars for hours in the middle of the night in the apocalypse for sports, Beth."

Well, when she put it like this—Beth let out a breath, forcing herself not to blush… "Well, we got stranded together in the wild after the place we'd holed up got overrun during an attack. It was only two of us for a little while."

"I see…" Shepherd slowly muttered, then asked, "Rick and that black-haired woman with katana, are they together? I'm seeing them always together."

Beth stared at her, stupefied, "Rick and Michonne? No… I don't know. Why?" she asked with a frown.

Shepherd eased off an indifferent shrug. "Just getting my bearings, that's all. Getting my facts straight," she said plainly, and questioned further, "You and Daryl…are you doing it?"

"What?" she cried out back.

Shepherd rolled her eyes again. "Are you having sex?" she asked as simple as if she was asking if today would rain.

"No!" Beth rushed out quickly, "No…no, we're… we're..." she said, then paused, and lamely finished, "…friends."

Shepherd let out such laughter for a second Beth really wished Rick had sent her on the watch alone without a gun. "Sorry," the woman said, holding her hand up in the air, still _laughing_.

"Are you done?" she bit off coldly.

Shepherd stopped laughing, and looked at her. "Maybe you should start consider it," the woman told her conversationally, "I see him beating the crap out of the walkers on many occasions. Not healthy."

Beth glared at her. "Are you seriously doing this again?" she hissed out, "After the fiasco with Joan?"

Shepherd's face became serious. "I'm just joking, Beth. But…" she faltered then shrugged, "Men are men. All this…violence—it turns them on, don't know why. Probably it's something with hormones, a chemical effect of our bodies or something..." She paused, a frown appearing over her brows, as she looked thoughtful, "I always wonder about the fact that rape rates are always highest after the wars. There is _something_ making men horny with fighting. "

"You're crazy," Beth mumbled out.

"_Don't_ pretend clueless, Beth," Shepherd shook her head at her, "It doesn't suit you. You know what I mean." She took a small pebble of dirt from the ground and threw it, "Why don't you pick up a fight with Daryl and see how he'd react?"

This time, Beth blushed. She didn't need to pick up a fight to know what Shepherd was talking about. She could still remember the way Daryl had acted when they had that fight, half spent on moonshine. There was that vigor in him in that night, oozing out of his every pore, something feral, dangerous, but also intriguing-something very manly—the way he held her—even when he manhandled her around—holding her tightly against his chest—it was all wrong—but it was truth. Very angered and worried, she wasn't ready to decipher it when it'd happened, then after everything she didn't have time, then forgot but now as she remembered, the memory itself was enough to coil her insides, twisting—something pulsing in her core—and she found herself getting…wet…and a pulse beating deep inside her.

She blushed further at her own reaction as Shepherd smiled down at her victoriously. "Ah…" she drawled out, "But you _do_ now what I'm talking about, don't you?"

"It's not like that…" she protested, rather lamely again.

"Yeah, sure. You're…_friends_." A snicker, "My bad."

Beth glared at her, for a full minute. Shepherd heaved out a sigh, shaking her head again, "I'm just trying to determine if I'll have a Gorman situation on my hands to deal with again, Beth." Another sigh escaped from her, "I'm fucking hating this."

Beth shook her head in protest, too. "Rick and Daryl aren't like this. You don't need to worry about it."

Shepherd snorted out again. "So you think, so I _thought_. I thought Gorman wasn't like _that_, too, at first, and I've known him for years. But there's something with that kind of power, too… It gets them, turning them—primitive...elemental." She paused for a second, and confessed, "It scares me… Men… They scare me more than walkers."

"_People_ scare me more than walkers," Beth said, "It was Dawn who pushed me off at the elevator shaft."

"Yeah… and you survived to fight another day."

"You can't manipulate people just because you're afraid," Beth asked, her voice turning steel.

"Can't I?" Shepherd asked, "Have you ever been truly alone in this world, Beth, having no one but yourself to depend on, feeling always at the edge?" she asked, and Beth knew the answer. _No_. The only time she'd ever been alone was the time she was at Grady, and despite she had escaped from there, if Daryl hadn't found her there, and if Rick hadn't come for her she knew she would have died in that clinic all alone.

"We work with what we have, Beth," Shepherd told her, when she didn't answer, understanding what her silence meant because the policewoman had been there, too.

But Beth shook her head, always stubborn to ignore things she didn't want to see, "It's not the answer."

"So, what's the answer?" Shepherd asked, "What'd stop Rick if he walks in on us at this moment and puts a bullet in my head or drags me to his bed? In the hospital I had power. There would be _consequences _of such an action. The only consequences I have here is that if he hurts me, it'd get _you_ upset. _Don't_ think I missed the look you gave Daryl and the one Daryl gave Rick. I'm not blind. If Daryl didn't interfere, I was out there tonight on the watch learning my lesson. And I learned it, Beth."

"Did you?" Beth asked with a frown.

"Oh, I did, Beth. I _did_ learn it."

At the last statement, Beth looked at her long, searching, suddenly recalling thinking yelling at her _take the hint, don't push it, _wondering why she had kept pushing Rick's buttons, because Shepherd was never stupid, but always wary, _always_ having an ulterior motive… then it dawned on her."You did, didn't you?" she exclaimed, "You pushed his buttons knowingly…for what…" She squinted, "You wanted to see how he'd react," she stated.

Shepherd looked at her back, openly clearly, then shrugged, "Just getting my facts straight." She paused, letting out a sigh. "You warned me he'd take it rough, and the way he was when he cut my cuffs. I needed to know. I needed to know if he's…all bark, bark, bark but not bite. I know now." The damn woman gave her a smile, "He's got the bite, too."

"He's got more than that. I told _you_!" Beth protested, "He would've send you out there just like he said if Daryl didn't—wait a minute—you—" Shepherd was giving her another smile again, Beth shook her head.

"I told you _not_ to make me regret it," Beth seethed. She really did it. She'd readied her game, put herself out there and waited to see how Rick and Daryl would react.

"I'm sorry, but I needed to know. I'm hanging by a thread here, entirely depending on two men's good conscience and reluctance to make a girl not upset." She shook her head, "I _can't_ live like this."

"You need to trust Rick. You need to trust Daryl." Beth said in return, standing up, frustrated, because she was doing just the thing Rick had warned her not to, going behind his back, putting them in jeopardy, but mostly herself. This stunt there mostly put no one but herself at risk, and a part of Beth was sad to see anyone like this—couldn't be able to trust anyone but herself—but really, she had to stop this!

"I _told_ you how lucky it's to have someone like him to think you as your family."

"So what do you suggest, huh?" Shepherd asked, leaning down, "I sit down and wait until Rick finally bestows on me his good graces _or_ I sit down and hope walkers overrun the church and we find themselves in wilderness and he gets to save me, all the while developing an affection for me enough to protect me from the monsters out there?"

"How about you sit down and play nice until you're accepted?" Beth shot back. Michonne had been in her steps once coming to the prison the first time then later had become a part of their family. "Michonne was in your shoes too, Amanda," Beth tried to explain, "had the same struggles. But look how she's now."

"Oh, I'm _seeing_ how she's now, Beth," Shepherd told her back with a sneer, "Don't worry about that."

"They're not like that… They're—" Looking at her, Beth faltered.

And she completed it for her, letting out a laugh, "…_friends_…Like you and Daryl." She shook her head, "Sometimes, you're really clueless, Beth."

"You wanted to learn if he's got the bite?" Beth bit off in answer, "If you asked me, I would've told you, Amanda. Before they found this place, someone tried to hurt Carl on the road, tried to rape him. No gun, no knife, nothing, Rick ripped off the man's neck…with his teeth."

Shepherd flinched for a second then shook her head. "That's…nice to hear, but I'm not seeing him ripping off a man's neck for me, really. I'm not his…_friend_," she said wryly, that amused smile appearing over her lips.

"You have to earn it," Beth said, "It doesn't come for free."

Her smile dropped. "So does my belief in the goodness of the mankind, Beth," Shepherd said flatly, "Trust work both ways. You keep telling me to trust him, but does he trust _me_?"

# # #

"She did _what_?" Rick hissed out in the management office later in the night, danger cutting curt edges to his tone.

Beth sighed out. So she had told him. She had to. The situation was getting out of control, she couldn't let that happen. Their safety was more important than her need to…believe in goodness. She wished she could have closed her eyes now that reality as well, could ignore it, but she could _not_. Amanda Shepherd was what she was but if she was to stay with them they all needed to accept it.

"She _tested_ you," Beth repeated, "wanted to see how you'd react." She paused, her eyes skipping to Daryl but left that other part out, because she just couldn't tell them she also wanted to see how Daryl would react, too. "Wondered if you're…all bark, bark, bark but no bite or not." She winced. "Her words."

Rick's jaw clenched, she could even see his muscles twitching. "I think it's her way of…adjusting to her new position," she tried to explain, "She's trying to—adapt."

_Just getting my facts straight._ Wasn't that what she'd done at Grady, as well, getting her bearings, getting her facts clear and straight. She could judge her the way she did it, but she could not fault for that.

Daryl looked at her in question. "Do you still wanna her stay?" he asked, as if it was the bottom line for him, and nothing mattered but her answer.

She let out a huff, and dropped on the couch. "I don't know," she admitted, "One part of me wants her away, the other wants…" She shook her head, "At hospital, she tried to save her people as much as she could while we ran. Those three wards we managed to pick up—she risked her life to get them. I don't think she's bad—just—" She looked at him, "Lost her way. And she won't trust us unless we trust her first. She doesn't know how."

Daryl still gave her a look, searching, "So you say we take a leap of faith?" he roughed out.

She ran her eyes away, and whispered, "I gave her my word."

Daryl nodded, "Okay," then only said, but she knew it was only because she wanted it, only because she needed to…keep faith.

"What if it's a mistake?" Rick asked, looking at them.

Daryl shrugged, "We done worse mistakes, man."

# # #

The next day in the morning, from the church's windows Beth saw Rick marching at Shepherd purposely as Amanda sat on the steps at the entrance. "How many walkers have you killed?" Rick asked with a flat voice.

Beth ran towards the door from where she stood inside and peeked out as Amanda looked at him dumbfounded. "What?"

"Answer the question," Rick ordered, "How many walkers have you killed?"

"I don't know…" she shrugged, "I've lost the count."

Rick fixed his look at her. "How many people have you killed?"

"Are you—what's that?"

"Answer the damn question!"

She shrugged again, "Honestly, stopped counting long ago."

"Why?"

She locked her eyes at his gaze, too, "To live to fight another day, what else?"

Rick threw her gun on her lap. "Good. We all live to fight another day."

Rick turned around and started walking away but she called him out, "Sheriff Grimes—" She stood up, gun in her hand, "I saved some people, too."

Rick gave her a look over his shoulder, "I know, Officer Shepherd, I know."

* * *

_Wow, I seem to get into another...pairing, yes, can't help myself either, that's it of course, Rick doesn't kill Shepherd first, ugh. Anyways, I noticed I'm enjoying writing them as much as I enjoy Daryl and Beth, so expect more._

_The next time, we'll finally leave the church. _


	16. Chapter 16

XVI.

Three pairs of wide, frightened eyes kept looking at Rick. "How many walkers have you killed?" Rick repeated the question.

Again silence. Rick shook his head disgusted, his jaw setting under his brushy beard, looking at them with contempt then turned to fix his gaze at Shepherd. Daryl could read a damn clear _seriously_ in the look. For a change, the woman looked…rattled, almost abashed. Rick shook his head disgusted again, "Were they really just mopping the floors at Grady?"

Shepherd shrugged, dropping her eyes down. Beth made a snort beside him. "Well, there was also washing," she snickered then a sigh followed, "_A_ _lot_ of washing."

Shepherd's eyes spun at Beth, glaring. "Dawn was adamant to keep things at order as it was before the turn," she said flatly, "so we protected, they—" She pointed toward the wards standing in front of Rick, three women he only knew by name, "—mopped and washed."

Rick shook his head again, "It doesn't work like that anymore," he snapped.

Shepherd titled her aside and gave Rick a small smile, all knowing. There was something with her smiles, something that got your skin crawl. Daryl had known those smiles, had read them a lot. If she kept doing this, testing him, things would've ended ugly. Though, Daryl knew the eccentric woman had won the first round. She had tested Rick, and the end had gotten her gun back. A clear victory, as it was. And Daryl wasn't kidding himself not thinking it wasn't nothing also between him and Beth. That he hadn't been tested himself, either.

Despite many evidence to the contrary, Daryl Dixon was no blind fool. He damn knew the damn woman had tested _him_ too. She knew their likes, much like Dawn did. _Hard shells, soft hearts._ She'd wanted to see how further he would've gone for Beth, would've dared to cross Rick. The subject was even inconsequential but the meaning was not. He could do anything for Beth.

Well, she had his answer then. _Do you still wanna her stay?_ There was something with her, much like how Beth sensed. Daryl knew good and bad, and he knew she got conscience, and sometimes the woman even reminded him Beth in a sort of way, her perseverance, the stubborn strengthen to live to fight another day. _She_'d managed to get out of Grady alive, too, when most of its populace probably had wanted her dead. She had survived Dawn, too. Maybe that was what bound Beth and her together, the shared experience of surviving that place, and maybe she really deserved this chance, but leap of faith or not, he didn't care. But Beth did, and that was the end of the story for him. Maybe it'd turn out a mistake, but like he'd told Rick, he'd done worse mistakes. Much worse mistakes.

"Really?" Shepherd asked back to Rick, still looking at him, that dry knowing smile on her lips, "Who did wash your shirt the last time, Sheriff?"

Daryl had to admit; Amanda Shepherd also had a way to find out good points and simply laid them ahead of you. Another thing that made him think of Beth, how she could be able to see behind his own bullshit and called him on it, like Shepherd had just done, because it was Carol who had washed Rick's shirt the last time, because Rick had never done any washing. He never even asked no one for it, it just happened that way. Despite their many differences, Amanda Shepherd and Beth Greene were very alike in that, clearly seeing through bullshits, and it was a revelation Daryl didn't exactly know what to do.

Thinking of his Beth like this cunning, sly crafty woman was disturbing him. Perhaps no one but him noticed it, aside Amanda Shepherd. _You're not as clueless as you seem_, and no, Beth Greene wasn't clueless. She could be as astute, canny, and devious as she was sweet, kind, gentle, and sometimes it drove Daryl crazy, because he loved the girl who wrote thank you notes to the people she didn't know more than life itself, but this sardonic, double-edged Beth worried him—_That_ was Amanda Shepherd, not his Beth.

Rick took a step closer to Shepherd, a clear threat saying if she still kept it, another _bite_ would follow, but the woman only smiled an inch wider in response—making Rick's teeth grit—and for a moment, Daryl thought Rick was gonna do it—bite her for real, though for different reasons.

Yeah, he had also noticed _that_, too. Only an idiot could miss the blazing glares they'd been shooting at each other—annoyed, irritated, but also…feral. He hoped Rick would be enough smart not to act on lust, but…well, men could be stupid sometimes.

Like Daryl Dixon stupid.

Each day he passed more in Beth's company, it was getting harder—_literally_. He passed his days now in a state of semi-hardness and a full-blow erection like a boy in his teens. His dreams were now full with Beth—each night getting more carnal than the other—maybe, perhaps this friendship bullshit wasn't working as fine as he had believed.

It seemed like the best option at the moment when he'd lost shit, and dragged her to have that shitass talk. One of part of him was content, was very happy to just have her—this simplicity, the easiness of just being together, but the other part—well, the other part was having _other_ ideas.

Ideas he should damn well not think in daylight, he berated himself, feeling the semi-hardness in his pants grow tighter—pissing him more—because he was getting bored with the constant feel of arousal—and pissed off not being able to stop it—because he'd always been—always managed to refuse the temptation when he wanted. Not anymore, it seemed. He was losing his control over his own body, and he didn't _like_ it. Daryl Dixon had a rep to have a loose temper, but it didn't mean he was losing it unwillingly, it just meant that he didn't care if he did or not. Now despite his best efforts, he was losing it, and it meant, well, _shit_.

Looking at Rick's eyes, Shepherd took a small, tentative step back. "Train them," Rick ordered then, reading the gesture; that she decided to play nice. The damn woman was good, she knew when to push, when to pull, and not the first time, Daryl thought Amanda Shepherd was not just a city cop. His intuition was almost never wrong on these kinds of stuff. Officer Shepherd wasn't the _same_ kind of law enforcement officer as Sheriff Grimes was. Daryl sighed. He used to suspect more than half of police force was actually dirty, so it wouldn't be flash news. It would explain a lot of shit, actually. "I'm not having them running around like headless chickens," Rick went on.

Her face becoming serious, Shepherd nodded. "Gun practicing?"

Rick shook his head in negative. "No. We don't have enough ammo, and gunshots bring walkers. You gotta keep quiet. Teach them how to deal with knives and blades."

Shepherd nodded, and asked, "How much time do I got?"

Rick frowned, "Time for what?"

"You know—before we leave?" and Daryl understood the reason of her playing nice.

Rick's frown grew tighter, "We're not leaving."

"You're seriously not thinking this's a good place to live, are you?" she pointed at the church.

"It's got a roof above our heads."

"Twenty three people and a baby in the same hall—in the same _small_ hall," she countered, "We need to go before winter comes. Noah says his home town got walls—"

Rick cut her off, "We're _not_ leaving."

She opened her mouth, but Rick just turned around and left. In a way, Daryl understood the other man's reluctance to go find another—sanctuary but Shepherd hadn't been there with them at Terminus or with Joe's groups, nor was Beth, and Daryl still wanted it to stay in that way. Beth didn't need to know what had happened, didn't need to know that Maggie hadn't looked for her but looked for Glenn.

With a seething look, Shepherd was glaring after Rick's back then she spun around at her people, and bit off, "You heard the man! No more mopping around. We gotta make royal bitches out of you."

# # #

Amanda twirled a hunting knife in her hands and looked at the women who were still looking frightened. A few feet away, Beth was standing at her left side, with Lamson away on a watch, she'd sort of become her co-instructor. "All right—" Amanda evened out a breath, showing them the knife, "First lesson, stick them with the pointy end."

Beth smiled. "So…take a hold," Amanda ordered.

The former wards grabbed the knives in front of them tightly. Beth could see the way their knuckles turn white by the force it. Amanda shook her head. "No…, not this way, not too tight—" She walked to her new pupils and held a mid-twenties woman's hand, Beth recalled her name, Cynthia, and made her loosen her grip. "It has to be lighter. This's called a pinch grip, hold the knife by your thumb and index finger. Let the others assist them. If you hold too tight, your muscles get sore. The grip has to be a delicate, like the knife is a part of your hand."

As Beth listened to Amanda, she realized how far away she'd come from the women in front of her, seeing them struggling with the policewoman's instructions. Those came to her as easy as breathing now. Once she'd been just like that, though, having the same struggles. Sometimes she missed the girl she'd been, but all things considered, she believed she hadn't turned out so bad, either. And it wasn't an easy struggle.

"Aim for the eyes, and the back of the head," the policewoman continued, "They're the easiest access point. It's not hard. The corpses are decaying. Now strike. Don't go straight. Always put some angle or else the blade would get stuck."

Seeing Cynthia's swinging an arc in the air, Beth walked toward her, and gently tapped her wrist. "Put some angle over there too, or your wrist would get stiff, too."

She checked them, walking through them with Amanda, the latter berating them every time they didn't follow her words, Beth feeling all nostalgic and determined at the same time. She was going to help these women, to get better, to learn how to protect themselves. She didn't want them to be royal bitches as Amanda had elegantly put it, but she wanted the former wards to know how to protect themselves against walkers and people. People like Gorman. She then decided she also wanted to learn to protect herself better. She'd taken Gorman, yes, but her luck had helped her, if Joan hadn't done what she did, she wondered how that encounter would have ended. She would've fought back, but she could've won? The answer didn't give her any comfort.

Before half of an hour passed, Amanda stopped, looking not with content. "Okay, that's enough for today. Tomorrow I'll take you out and we can practice for real. So you see the real deal."

The women shared another frightened look between them. "Do we really have to?" The oldest one, Whitney, asked.

"Am I sorry but did you miss the part Sheriff said he won't have you like headless chickens, Whitney?" Amanda asked back.

The older woman dropped her head. Beth felt an ire rising in her. She didn't like the sight, their reluctance, the easy acceptance of being a damsel in distress. "You can't rely on anyone for anything, okay?" she exploded, "You can only _trust_ them, but you've gotta learn to live in this world, have the will to live—" she added, remembering her own revelation. Amanda gave her a look, but didn't speak up. The former wards just looked—not convinced.

Amanda sent the wards away with a quick tilt of her head. "Go now, we'll continue tomorrow." When they left, Amanda came and rested her back on the tree next to her, "We're all made of different cloths, Beth," the woman said almost gently, "You can't expect everyone to be like you."

"Like me?"

"A fighter," Amanda simply said, and let out a sigh, and muttered, "Some of them just really have to learn…run fast."

Beth took a step on, shaking her head. "You're not serious."

"I _am_," Amanda snapped, "It's not only walkers, you know. People don't wait for you to stick them with pointy ends. People react, people fight back." She paused, "Sometimes it's even better not to fight at all."

"You are _not_ serious!" Beth objected, her voice rising, because she couldn't really believe what she was hearing.

"Look at me, Beth, and tell me if do you honestly think that I'd win over Rick or Daryl in a fair fight?" Understanding her point, Beth ran her eyes, but the anger of the weakness of their sex was still making anger blazing over her. She shook her head, _"_We're what we're, ignoring the facts never get you anywhere." She paused for a second, a dangerous gleam entering into her eyes, "I won't teach any of you to fight, but I can teach you how to…_run_."

Beth's eyes snapped at her, surprised, "Yeah, let's find Daryl. We need him for this."

An hour later, they were all back in the clearing at the background of the church, plus with Daryl, who watched them warily. "Okay, let's get this clear first. This is _not_ fighting, okay? I won't have any of you getting over your heads, trying to be a damn hero or anything. Look at this guy—" She pointed at Daryl with the branch she'd found in the tree line, "In a fight with him, you've got absolutely no chance to win. Accept it. In a situation likes this, you don't fight. You try to run and get yourself to safety. Are we clear on this?"

They nodded, Beth followed too. Like Amanda said, it was a fact. It was self-defense. "All right then," Amanda stated, then turned to Daryl and ordered firmly, pointing at Beth with her head, "Choke her."

Daryl gave her a long, long look. "Don't stare at me, do it!" Amanda snapped, "She wants to learn."

Beth looked at Daryl, and nodded at him_. I want to do this, please_. Seeing her look, tentatively, Daryl walked to her and held her neck. His hands on her skin was cool, callous skin gently holding her, almost barely and it felt odd, so odd to have him like this—_again_, her mind suddenly went to the day he'd grabbed her from behind in a hold—Then she thought perhaps they would've asked someone else to help them… Amanda came at their side. "When someone grabs you like this," she started telling them, "you have about six seconds before you pass out. Six seconds all that you've got—" She pointed Beth's neck with her stick, "Daryl, don't be a sissy, tighten the grip." Levelling at her a look, Daryl obliged, "Beth, show me how break free," Amanda ordered.

She held Daryl's wrists as he kept her at the arm's length, his hands tightening, "I'll push his wrists…"

Amanda cut her off with a bark, "Don't talk about it, be about it!" she yelled, "You just lost three seconds," she warned. Beth tried to break the grip pushing, but Daryl only held tighter in response, but not bulging—and it actually started hurting, "Four—" Beth spurred out a cough, still holding on his wrists, and tried to hit him in the shin—Amanda shook her head with a hiss, "And you _just_ made him angrier—_six_, and you're out." She clicked her fingers as Daryl's hands dropped, "You're at his complete mercy."

Beth flushed, with embarrassment and with anger. She just realized again how truly weak she was physically and she didn't like the feeling. Amanda let out a breath and handed to her the stick. "All right, let me show you how. Daryl?" She asked, turning to them.

This time Daryl held her at the neck, directly in a tight grip. "A bit lighter, gotta speak," she forced out still with a smile. Daryl glared at her, but loosened his grip, "Now, you hold his hands, not by the wrists. Wrists are strong junctures, hard to move. You don't want them getting fixed on you. Just a bit upper—" She put her hands a few inches above Daryl's wrist—"The trick is…as you start pushing his hands, you tuck back your chin—" she pulled her chin down to her neck, dropping the tip of chin on her hallow of neck, "The action makes his thumbs loosen their grip, then you bend down under him—" she slowly bent down under Daryl's arms with an arc, showing them the act, "And twist aside—and step back."

Like she instructed, she easily twisted and stepped back. Straightening, she waved at Beth again. "Okay, let's try again." Daryl came at her once again as Amanda took her stick back. "The trick is tucking down the chin—" Amanda warned them again, pointing at her chin, "If you don't tuck, his thumbs will hold you as you try to bend down, and you'd get stuck. Tuck, bend, twist, step back." She paused, "And run like hell."

Tuck, bend, twist, step back. She could do this. Beth followed the instructions, and found out it was not that hard or Daryl at least was not holding her too tight. "Okay, let's try it, girls—" Amanda motioned at her paired class as they tried too, "Again."

"Not bad, huh?" she asked Daryl, smiling after the sixth attempt when she finally managed to break away from his grip under six seconds.

"Not bad," he agreed, his voice rough around the edges, more than usual.

Beth felt the blood fastening in her veins again, his eyes heavy—but before she could open her mouth, Amanda cut them off again.

"All right, you'll practice it later, and you have to. Practice is all what you have to do until it comes natural to your muscles," she continued with her usual matter-of-fact demeanor, "Don't forget. When this actually happens, it won't be like this. Panic will terrorize you. You will feel fear, despair, dread all the same time. Your brain can feel all those, but your muscles _cannot_. You're not allowed to, all you got is six seconds, don't forget, six seconds."

This time even Beth looked at her with consideration, but then shook off the feeling. They didn't get to do that, either. Six seconds, she reminded herself, six seconds. "All right, just another one before we stop. Watch it carefully." She waved at Daryl again, "Here, sleeper hold?" she asked.

Daryl stayed this time even more doubtful, but got her behind a few seconds later. He loosely looped his left arm over her neck, suspending his grip, clutching his wrist with his other hand. His wrapped arm around her neck brought memories to Beth as her mind raced to the day he'd held her against his chest in a very similar fashion, one hand holding his crossbow, the other keeping her pressed at his chest, his breath hot and tinted with moonshine, his eyes glinting with fury—

Beth shivered, right down along her spine, pin and needles all over her body. She wondered if Daryl remembered it, too, wondered if he could sense her—He was carefully away from her, keeping their bodies inches apart, but she could still feel his body heat, emitting out of him, hitting at her like powerful seismic waves. She felt dizzy, that pulse inside her started throbbing again. She realized then again with a shock she was getting wet, hot and wet—something, twisting, snaring, crawling inside her…like she had an itch only Daryl would scratch… and maybe she just needed to turn around and made him…_scratch_ her… Vivid images suddenly assaulted her mind—very vivid, very…_naked_ images…

"This's a form of rear chokes," Amanda's firm voice cut through the haze of her lustful thoughts, bringing her back to the earth, "something attackers usually perform when they want to subdue their opponents without making a scene because it's easier, safer and hard to get away." She turned aside to give them a look, "Now, this's not nice," Amanda remarked, and Beth didn't now if she would agree or not, because when the holder was Daryl, it didn't come to her _that_ bad, actually she even wished Daryl would get a bit closer to her, held her tighter against him…and…and… did much more of it… For once, Amanda Shepherd wasn't all correct in her facts. There was something also made _women_ horny with fighting, Beth decided.

"You're held at full body contact," Amanda continued, "and too much vulnerable, and breaking the grip here can be impossible if you don't play smart. You have to be smart, and look for the window of opportunity. You have to always be smart before you make your move, girls. Always."

Amanda walked closer and pointed at Beth. "Look, it's basically the same drill but there's one difference— one side of her is pretty closed." She placed her hand on Daryl's right arm where it was coiled around her neck, "This way is closed, escape is at the other side," Amanda waved at the her right side, "When you're in comprising situations you gotta think of movements and momentum," she went on explaining, Beth could hardly focus on her now—her mind still going into the gutter, and one part of her knew that it was bad, she had to know this stuff… "You always gotta be facing at the escape route," Amanda instructed. Beth tried to focus on, "Bending and going straight here don't work." She moved her hand to Beth's face this time and twisted her head aside, "You first turn aside to the escape route, try to move down the arm as much as you can—" Beth followed the instruction, hanging down on Daryl's arm as hard as she could, "then bend—and step out—" And she did, she bent and tried to step out but got blocked by Daryl's chest, his arms tightened around her, their bodies closing in on each other.

She stopped, and it was funny even when she thought her heart was caught in her throat, it madly galloped in her chest, what funnier though was she could also hear Daryl's heartbeat drumming in her ears, beating hard against her- and like she was pulled by some invisible strings, she just did the very opposite thing she was supposed to do—instead of stepping out, she stepped in further on him—

Their eyes snapped up at each other—and she watched as Daryls' darkened—so darkened for a moment she thought her heart really stopped—and she must've utterly, thoroughly, totally lost her mind, because she took another an inch of step and rested herself completely against him.

He hissed—a bulge somewhere below digging at her—and she realized what it was as soon as she felt it against her core. She'd given Daryl Dixon an erection. The thought was so…bizarre and so out of reach, for a moment she felt the same panic again, a part of her just wanted to step out and run for the hills, but the other part just wanted to rest on him further, wanted to melt against him-be twisted with him—she wanted him…in. Completely. She really wanted him scratch her itch…very badly. Oh so very _badly_. Throwing off every warning bells inside her head out of window, Beth did it, she leaned on him completely and… slowly, just an inch, she grinded over him.

And it. felt. fucking. amazing. Another hiss of breath filled in her ears, Daryl's face turning stiff, his fingers digging harder at her skin, and then he pushed her off, turned back and stalked away out of the clearing.

As she swaggered at her feet, it felt like something ripped off out of her.

# # #

"You see why I hate this fucking place?" Amanda asked the next morning when they went out in the woods for foraging. Daryl was no where to be seen. He'd woken up before the dawn and gone into the woods. Beth was not surprised, of course. All in honestly, she was still processing what had happened, what she had _done_, how she had _grinded_ all over him in front of all people. She truly had gone mad. She couldn't find any other explanation. He'd _finally_ driven her crazy.

Beth hadn't born yesterday, she'd fooled around both with Jimmy and Zach enough to know that she liked _those_ feelings but this was altogether different. Neither Zach nor Jimmy had never made feel like Daryl had, like she'd turned into some frenzy, a sort of fever that made her grind at him like a school boy—out of her mind-in the public. It was mad, he hadn't even touched at her properly, but it was also thrilling, just to think how it would be if he did it, if he _just_ touched her… her mind twirling with those kind of images, her insides throbbing, but it was also scary, she was never _like_ this, so she really didn't know exactly what to do, either. That if she was supposed to do anything at all. Daryl seemed like he was going to pull another ghosting… and perhaps she should have, too. But then again she thought they were exactly doing that, ignoring this thing between them, and it didn't look like it _was_ working.

"There's no privacy at all," Amanda hissed with frustration beside her, and Beth remembered she wasn't alone.

But Beth could understand the sentiment. Maggie had come to her this morning, with prying eyes and all, as if she'd heard what had happened with Daryl. She could not dare to make another comment after their episode in the hospital, but her look said it _all_. Beth had then bailed out, mumbling out to her needing to go to foraging, and Maggie had wanted to come, too, then Beth had to say Amanda would come with her. She had no idea how it came out of her, but she couldn't really be around Maggie and with her probing eyes when things were this…tangled between her and Daryl. Amanda was different, there was something incredibly made you feel at ease being with the policewoman. She hardly judged, she almost never be surprised, and she never tiptoed around anyone, and despite of her annoyingly pushy personality, she actually had a laid back demeanor when she wanted it. Beth found it refreshing. "I mean if you decide to act on it," Amanda mused out, "the best option is the management office." She paused for a second, and said, "sounds filthy, I admit."

"There's the woods," Beth shot back, almost indifferently, letting go the comment on the church's management office, trying to push away the thoughts how it would be doing it out in the woods, the cold bare earth under her naked skin. Daryl _liked_ the woods.

Amanda let out a breath, wandering her eyes around, "I hate the woods, too. I'm a born and bred city girl." The irony almost made Beth smile. "Do you plan to do something about it?" Amanda asked a second later, picking up a berry from the bush they were in front of.

"About what?" Beth asked back, playing dumb.

The policewoman shook her head. "A comfort zone is a beautiful place, Beth, but nothing ever grows there," she intoned and picked up another berry and dropped it into the basket on the ground. "I mean—look at me, I'm out of my comfort zone—" she snickered dryly, waving her hand around, "picking up berries in the woods. Trusting. _Growing_."

"Rick gave you your gun back," Beth shot back. It wasn't the other way. Rick had trusted her first.

"That he did," Amanda shrugged it off, but then smiled at her, "Thank you by the way."

Beth mirrored her shrug, too, and picked a berry herself. "Do you think I should?" she asked, damn her, couldn't help herself.

"That depends."

Beth frowned, "On what?"

"How much you want it to change?" Amanda answered back, "When I really don't like something, I do something about it. But before all of this I was in my comfort zone, too, enjoying my life as simple as it was. It wasn't a lot but I was happy with it." She paused, "Wouldn't want any growing, honestly."

It felt wrong to hear anyone saying something like this—having so little expectations from life. She had so many expectations before things turned into a horror story with their life. She had really thought her life would've been full of wonders, full of with success, full of with love. She would have gone to the city, be a famous singer, fall in love, get married, have children….birthdays, holidays, summer picnics. Having so little expectation didn't sound right, even though it was exactly what she'd wanted in the last couple of weeks. Not complicated, not funny, not bizarre, just plain simple. Now she didn't know. One part of her just wanted Daryl to push her down in the woods and did all the wicked stuff, not fooling around, not messing up, not even sweet making love—no, he _just_ wanted him to fuck her. She didn't even know truly what she was talking about, but she just knew she wanted it. She could _feel_ it. Throbbing, pulsing, clawing at her deep inside, her itch—all the world squeezing into that tiny point of itchy existence, inside her-and he should scratch it, he should chafe it—no one but _him_. She thought maybe she really lost her mind.

"I always wanted to live in the city, too, you know?" she told the policewoman, looking ahead the bush, "I loved the farm, but it was so small, and the world was so big. I wanted to experience it. Wanted to fall in love crazily, have a family, kids, dogs…"

"Well, it isn't hard to get 'em even in the apocalypse," Amanda said, "Your sister and her boyfriend look like they did."

"Do you think?" she asked, shaking her head, "I thought we're all a big family at the prison. I thought we could live there forever. I thought my father would have died in his sleep peacefully like Percy. I thought Maggie and Glenn would've had babies. Now our home's gone, my father brutally killed, my sister wrote me off as dead, and we're once again out in the woods, drifting."

"We don't have to," she pointed out, possibly deciding on the focus what they would change matter-of-factly, and because she really didn't like being here, "We could build a new home for ourselves. You're still like a sort of a big family here. Rick is the father, Daryl is the big brother—you all like children—or distant cousins."

Beth made a face, "Doesn't sound right."

"You know what I mean."

Beth nodded, because she damn knew what she did mean. "So…what do you think I should do?" she asked, "You saw him at the hospital, you saw him yesterday too. When things get…complicated, he just walks away from me."

Amanda let out a deep breath, "Yeah."

Beth picked up another berry, "Do you think I should talk to him?"

This time Amanda let out a laugh, "Talk to him? Did you try to talk to him the last time he came and dragged you away to _talk_ after he got disappeared?"

Beth frowned, "No… He thought I was ignoring him."

Amanda nodded. "Don't try to talk to him. Don't try to force him into anything. You _can't_ force guys like him into anything. You put out yourself there, pique his interest, then pretend you're not aware, then wait him come to _you_—"

Beth stayed silent for a long minute. "That doesn't sound right, as well. It sounds like... a tactic."

Amanda shrugged unabashedly, "It _is _a tactic," she said, "All is fair in love and war," she flashed a smile, "never heard of it?"

Beth gave the policewoman a searching look. "Is this what you're doing with Rick?" she prompted. Because it felt exactly like what she'd been doing. She had put herself out there, played her game, and Rick had come to her at the end.

Amanda shook her head. "No, Rick isn't like Daryl. Rick Grimes is a family man, Beth. His interests can be piqued, but you can't keep him like this. I don't want him to…want me. I _need_ him to need me. Family men need wives, but that's _not_ me, that's Michonne. I'm not a wife material," she admitted, letting out another sigh, and Beth knew she'd been thinking on this a lot, how she could fit herself in, "That way I can be only his…mistress. But that's not me, either." She smiled a little smile, almost shy, "It never ends well for mistresses in the stories, you know."

Beth laughed, "What're you going to do then?" she asked.

She shrugged at that indifferent way. "I don't know. I'll figure out something."

Beth looked at her, "Just don't go behind his back." There was a pause in her, as if she was really considering it, weighing her options, so Beth had to remind her, "He gave you your gun back."

"That he did," Amanda admitted with another sigh, shaking her head, and looked around. "I really fucking hate this place."

Again, Beth laughed. "Well, I guess I'll just hope someone else die in the sleep and we'll be forced to leave…" Amanda continued, "...or I don't know…walkers can always overrun the place, right?" Beth snickered at the hopeful tone, "A girl can always dream…"

* * *

_A/N: I know I said we were going to leave the church with this chapter, but like I also said I have absolutely no power over my own story, they just refuse to do my wishes, so this happens..._

_Enjoy, and please, do review. Makes me write faster, and I really would like to hear how you think I'm going._

_-Stick them with the pointy end, is from Game of Thrones._


	17. Chapter 17

XVII.

Under the moonlight, Daryl was dreaming.

_She came to his dream young and beautiful again, full of smiles. She was lying over in a lawn, inside the wild green grass, clad in a summer dress, moonlight and stars dancing across her face in the dark. She smiled wider seeing him, and her face shone brighter with it, and she straightened up and sat on her knees. She reached out her hand, calling him, "I know you'd come," she said in whisper, her voice a soft melody, "What changed your mind?"_

_Then the scene shifted…and they were back in the funeral home, and she was singing to him as he lay in the coffin, his breath even, her song soft and gentle, singing him to sleep—and we lay in a lawn, and we'll be good…_

_And she was clad in her underwear in a gloomily lit by moonlight room, him searching every inch of body—looking for a scratch—fear and despair like bile in his stomach and she was in his arms again listless, limp, his hand wrapped around her wrist—but there was no pulse beating under his skin—her skin cold—pale as smoke—but when she opened her eyes, their glazed blue—a snarl roughing out of the depths of her.._

_When she cried, her tears froze over her cheeks._

With a jolt, Daryl woke up, breathless, his heart galloping inside his chest.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

Trying to calm down himself, he looked around—holding his hand on the earth, his head bowed… He'd forgotten these dreams, and now they were back, he almost wished to have those _other_ dreams, anything else than that—anything else than seeing Beth with those glazed eyes, listless in his arms…dead.

Apparently, what he'd forgotten, his subconscious had remembered. His eyes found the wooden small country church, lights off as the camp had put into the sleep. Daryl had opted to sleep outside after he'd come back to the camp around midnight, staying close but not going inside. He'd spent the last two days in the woods, _alone_, leaving before the dawn and coming back around midnight. Rick had decided to put out more trenches as a second perimeter around the church, and calling a tactical retreat, Daryl had made it his life mission to find the biggest, the thickest logs out in the woods.

He didn't want to see her, at least not yet. He wasn't still ready. He didn't know what the fuck he was supposed to do, so staying the fuck away seemed like the best option. Feeling like an old, sick pervert, lusting after an eighteen years old girl was enough for him, but knowing the same girl having the same…urges… well, he was drawing the line there. She was supposed to have _affections_ for him, not grinding all over him in public like she was in a frenzy, and with those eyes…looking at him, begging him to…do _something_ about it.

What the fuck he was supposed to do? Throw her over his shoulder, carry her to his cave, and had her six ways from Sunday. It _was_ wrong. Wrong… Just wrong. Hell, if he tried to make a list of how wrong it was, he would just write, he was Daryl Dixon, and she was Beth Greene, and he wouldn't need to add any damn thing, because just those would explain everything.

Daryl Dixon wasn't the type of a guy you would want your baby girl get on with. Fuck, if _he_ had a daughter, he surely would have kept her the fuck away from himself. If her father saw him now, saw him with her daughter… He shook his head.

And, he didn't want any of this shit! He wanted Beth, of course, he'd admitted it, but it didn't mean he wanted…rest. The funeral home was good. In fact, it'd been so good, so normal that somehow he'd gotten so stupid that he almost got her killed. They didn't get to do stupid. They didn't have that luxury.

_Stupid gets you killed…_

His mind assaulted with images from his dream, blue stark glazed eyes, pale face... frozen tears.

He swore, his chest swelling, something inside him itching. He had to see her. He had to go inside and see her—make sure she was there—still—sleeping peacefully. The urge was strong he could barely contain it, and he knew he couldn't stop now—not before he made sure she was okay, still breathing.

Swearing under his breath again, he stalked to the church and opening the door silently, he went inside. This was insane, _he_ was fucking insane, and you didn't do this kind of stupid in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, but here again he was being Daryl Dixon stupid. He could swear if there was an afterlife, his old man and Merle were having a shit in their pants from laughing right now.

But he _had to_ know.

As silent as a lion on the prowl, he found Beth at a corner, close to Carol and Judith, and at her other side a few feet away, there was Shepherd, too, sleeping a faint frown etched over her brows. For a minute, Daryl wondered if _this_ was also a thing of her—the damn woman was rubbing on Beth at the wrong ways. All in honesty, Amanda Shepherd wasn't a kind of woman you would want _your_ daughter hanging around, either. They seemed to be best pals now, always hanging out together.

He let out a sigh. But that was a part of Beth, too, that spirit, he'd come to admire, the spirit had made them burn that ramshackle cabin down, that spirit had made her come out of Grady alive. She was going to be death of him, he thought smiling at himself, his hand going to her hair.

He gently touched her, his fingertips passing through her locks, still caked with dirt but somehow still soft…no blood this time, thank god for small mercies. Her chest was moving rhythmically, too, soft, even breaths coming out of her, and he wanted to hold her wrist too, feel the pulse beating under his calloused skin…

Like on its accord, his hand held her wrist even before he finished the thought. Daryl Dixon stupid. Beth's eyes widened open as she jolted up, feeling the intrusion, opening her mouth to scream, and panic was rising in her gaze as her pulse fastened under his fingers.

He quickly covered her lips with his other hand, "It's me—" he roughed out in low, feeling just right like a damn, old, sick pervert.

What the hell he had been thinking?

He pulled back his hand away from her mouth, but his other hand still held her wrist, he couldn't let it go, he just couldn't. "Daryl?" she whispered out, barely audible, looking at her wrist in his hand, "What are you doing?" she asked then.

He shrugged, pulling off his hand, too, "I—I had a dream."

Understanding lit in her eyes, she simply nodded, didn't ask anything else. Instead she scooted a bit over the wall, offering him a place on her bedroll. Daryl looked at it warily. This—this was a bad idea. She huffed in her throat, her eyes wandering around, "Daryl, don't make a scene," she warned with a small smile like he'd done before, "I'm tired, and wanna sleep." She paused, bowing her head, "Just sleep. Promise."

He gave her another look, because well, it really didn't seem like a good idea—but he was tired too, tired to his bone, and damn, he hadn't been sleeping well since two days—and tonight—his dream… He knew he couldn't get any damn closed eyes if he left her tonight here-and that was also stupid, right? He _needed_ sleep.

So slowly, so slowly, he skid over her on the bedroll, and lay down beside her, carefully putting an inch between them, so their bodies wouldn't get the wrong ideas, but he knew it was a hopeless struggle, he could feel his stomach tightening as a semi arousal starting hardening him. He decided to ignore it, pulling his right hand under his head, gazing at the ceiling. Up there, there was a script, he tried to read it but lights were so dim—he wondered if there was a special place in hell for the old, dirty, sick son of bitches, because it looked like he'd just made a first class reservation for it.

Beth soft laughter cut off his musings, "You're an idiot, you know," she whispered at him.

He grunted out a soft sigh, too, but only told her, "Go back to sleep."

And she laughed even more, her hand briefly touching at his fingertips, "You're not the boss of me, Daryl Dixon."

And yes, he was not. He was her bitch, more likely.

# # #

The next morning, Beth woke up in the empty bed, Daryl _again_ nowhere to be seen. This—this was getting pretty old, she decided, seething. Carol gave her a look, taking a crying Judith again in her arms—Rick was approaching them too, his eyes worried on the baby girl.

Amanda was groaning in her own makeshift bed roll, pulling up—"Does she _ever_ stop?" she snapped, bowing her head, and unfortunately Rick just came at that moment, and shot a glare at her.

Beth felt like suffocating, the crowd, the cries, the prying eyes… everything Amanda kept whining… "What happened?" Amanda asked, catching on her.

"Nothing," Beth spat, "_Nothing_ happens."

She was getting tired of waking up a ghosting Daryl. She stormed out of the church, leaving Carol, Rick, and Amanda sharing looks with each other.

It was _not_ fair. She didn't even do anything—not even a damn tactic, because she couldn't even see him, two days…two fucking days he had come and go as thieves in the dark, then he'd just appeared out of blue, while she was _sleeping_, holding her hand, giving her a heart attack, but also looking at her like _that_, and morning came, he flew.

_Idiot. Bloody asshole. Stupid jerk. _

But how nice the last night had been, just listening to his even breath as she lulled herself back to sleep, the soft rough rumbles of his chest like a lullaby to her, his body heat, even though they weren't touching, keeping her warm and fuzzy. She felt safe and secure like she hadn't felt for a long time just being like that, just being with him, sharing a bedroll together—and she thought, once again stupidly—that thing between them would work, actually would work— what else they got anyways, who else? It was a thought, she didn't want to dwell much on it, but it was the truth itself. It was Daryl who had come for him, no one else. Carol had come with him, because of him, not because of _her_. They were already a family, already bonded…and it would work, if only he would accept it.

And she was sick of it, plain fucking sick—sick of being dumped off a relationship that hadn't even started yet.

She walked around aimlessly, trying to think of something. Amanda would take the girls out of the woods for practice today. She was going with them, so maybe the woods would be good for her. At least, she would be away from the church.

"No, you stay—" Amanda said half of an hour later as she prepared for the practice, "Lamson is coming with me. Sasha and Tyreese will come too. You don't look good. Stay and work it out."

"No. I'm fine."

"Yeah, you really look fine," Amanda snickered, and asked as she a water bottle inside her backpack, "What happened, Beth, what he did this time?"

Beth tossed at her a glare, and remembered, "You told me to stay away," Beth reminded her, "At hospital, you told me to stay away from him, why?"

Amanda let out off a big huff, fastening the bag. She straightened up. "Dawn used to call their kinds _soft hearts, hard shells,_" she said, hanging the backpack over one shoulder, "If you ask him to kill himself for you, he'd do it without a blink, but if you asked him to be with you… he would run for the hills. They… they want you—but they also _don't_ want you. It's hard to explain." She laughed, "They always have a reason, sub-stories…childhood traumas." She sighed again, "I'm a bit like him, too, I guess," she confessed then, "I've born into the system, grew up bouncing off foster homes. The thing is…it's our shit, not yours, Beth. You can't deal with it. So if you have—a mind of…being it different with _you_—get over it. You know what they say…_it's not about you, it's about me_. It's a damn cliché, but it's true." She paused, "It's not about you, it'_s_ about him."

"I know," Beth snapped, "I'm not an idiot." She stopped for a second, and asked "So—so you really think I should stay away—let him—be in his…comfort zone?"

Amanda shrugged, "I told you. Depends on you. There was this guy once, we were…sort of together, but he wanted to make things...serious, wanted commitment." She paused, letting out another sigh, "I couldn't. Like I said, I was quite happy in my comfort zone. It wasn't anything like you had, but it was like what I'd always had, and I didn't want it to change."

Beth shook her head, "It's not right."

Amanda shrugged off, "It's what it is."

Beth caught her at her upper shoulders. Why they had to be this… _stupid_, refusing something would be good for them. "Just listen to yourself. You say it because it's _easier_ that way." She looked at the woman, wanted to see it herself too, "You can be much _more_—he can be much more."

Amanda took a step back, closing off as if she'd let herself too much in the open, "Well, it's not me you have to convince, it's _him_."

Then Beth made his decision. Enough with this shit, she'd had enough of this shit. "I'll talk to him."

Amanda shrugged again, "You do that."

"And you have to talk to Rick, too," Beth then said.

Amanda gave at her an incredulous look, letting out a laugh. "Why I would want to do _that_?"

"Because you gotta stop doing what you're always familiar with," Beth told her in earnest, and hoped that she could listen, "I know what you're pulling with Noah, and Rick knows it, too. Try something different once in your life. Go _talk_ to him."

# # #

_Try something different once in your life… _Beth had said, and Amanda had barely kept a snort inside her. Talk, well, she always talked to people, she had _talked_ to Noah, too, got him talking about his home in the group, making the rest of the group know that they had another option. Apparently Rick also knew it, but let it go, once again. She smiled at herself with content. Something else she had gotten away with it.

Amanda was no Michonne, but she wasn't Beth, either. Amanda Shepherd was a self-made woman, and she took a great pride on that, knowing that nothing she'd ever achieved in this life was handed to her on a silver plate, but she'd worked for them, worked hard and well.

She had never big ambitions, though. Like she'd told Beth she was glad to be a plain city cop in the force, enjoying the security she'd aimed to maintain for all her life, a permanent roof over her head, and a glass of a good wine, and a few pairs of nice shoes and a good sum of a retirement money; those were all what she had cared to have in her life until one day the world she knew turned into a freak show and she lost it all, and once again found herself like she usually did— hanging by a thread.

Amanda perhaps never fully knew the meaning of home, but she knew the importance of having a _roof_ over your head. The thing was that _this_ roof didn't just get on well with her. All in honesty, there was only one thing she liked being out of the city; in the woods the air was cleaner, no residue of the napalm bombs catching at your throat, the rest she _hated_ it.

There was _really_ no privacy, and Amanda was a very private woman. Things had been bad at the hospital, but here, they were simply worse. Even sleep was like a big group activity that they huddled down on the floor of the little country church's hall. It was always crowded. There was always some people under her feet—eyes always watching her warily. It felt like she was put under surveillance—and who would know, maybe she was? Rick Grimes wasn't some bloody trusting idiot.

Despite that common point, Rick Grimes wasn't like her. Amanda had also gathered that at the first time she'd dealt with the man at Grady. Being a police officer for her was just a way to evade ending up as a criminal, because when you grew up into the gutters of the city in different foster homes, you had limited options to be a law abiding citizen. So one day after she turned to seventeen, Amanda had simply decided that she would've just made a byline—cutting off all the drama that was surely waiting her in the world of crime, but instead had enrolled into Academy. Honestly, she wasn't thinking protecting anyone other herself when she'd made that decision. That was how Rick Grimes was different from her, too, he was the sheriff, all sworn and elected to protect the weak and innocent.

Leaving the girls in grounds as they returned from the woods, she entered back into the church, trying to keep her lips not pursed with discontent. They should leave. Winter was coming and this small wooden church in the country-she couldn't be only one who could see this wasn't going to have a happy ending? She couldn't understand why Rick wasn't listening to the reason, and the leaders who didn't listen to the reason understandably gave her cold shivers.

She had no idea why he didn't want to leave, and she didn't care. She fucking hated this place, hating not having any privacy, hating the crowd, hating to know that just after she'd managed to put everything in a sort of order—then in one fucking night—one fucking night came and she'd lost it all. Again… And the worst of it, the worst of it, there was no one to blame, aside her damn conscience. She could hardly blame anyone for dying peacefully in the sleep, could she? For types of Rick Grimes it was of course had been an attack, some bad sonofabitch who wanted them death, but for Amanda Shepherd, it just had to be some old shitty joke.

She lifted her head up, her eyes finding a cross on the wall, and she shook her head. "Do you hate me, don't you?" she whispered out, with a mild contempt she felt deep in her bones. She really hated this place.

But whining about it could get her nowhere, a thing she'd learned at a young age bouncing off from one foster home to another, no, when there was something you didn't like, you simply stopped complaining, stopped crying, stopped praying, but did something about it.

And she was… like always, she was doing _something_ about it whenever there was something she didn't _like_ enough to push her out of her comfort zone— If Noah kept talking about his home like she'd…uh…urged him to, his people would start questioning Rick, would put enough pressure on him—would force him to leave. If it wouldn't work well enough…_ s_he could always try to nudge that redhead guy—try to wedge a rift between them. There was something between them—with his depression and such, there was something else with Abraham Ford.

But as Beth had reminded her a couple of times, Rick had given her her gun back. Breaking it in such a way meant an open declaration for war, something she was wasn't sure if she wanted to—not to mention if she could dare to, but there was something else, too, something she couldn't confess even to Beth. If she had to be completely honest with herself, if things were different, she wouldn't have minded to follow Rick as her leader. Amanda did _never_ have big ambitions, never wanted to lead, never wanted to protect anyone than her own skin. But things weren't different, and they were what they were; two rivals had met on a conflicted situation.

_You can be more…_

Damn you, Beth Greene!

A few of minutes later, following her, Rick and Michonne entered into the church too. The baby was with Carol, and was _still_ crying as the older woman tried to keep her occupied, Tyreese was with them—and her mopping sister was…moping at some corner, Rick's big boy was at other corner—sulking likewise…baby's cries all over the place. _Ugh,_ Amanda sighed out inwardly. It was driving her crazy, batshit crazy. If there was indeed a god, she decided then, he really hated her.

Rick stood at Carol's side, picking up his baby girl, trying to hush her. A family man. She wasn't wrong in her estimation; Rick Grimes was a family man. He and Michonne left them after a while, and went inside the management office.

Standing up, she quickly followed them before she changed her mind and bailed out. "Can we talk?" she asked after she walked into the room, the words sounding strange to her ears. She always talk to people, she reminded herself. It wasn't so much different. He wouldn't know she was trying something…different here. Oh, dear god, she was turning into one of them… suckers_… It's the eyes… got you suckers all the time._

She was much like an idiot, like Daryl Dixon. And there had to be something with Beth Greene's blue eyes that turned you stupid.

Michonne gave her a keen look, unabashedly searching, and Amanda pretended she wasn't there at all- Rick nodded. Amanda glanced at Michonne, "Alone."

Rick's eyes squinted a bit, but he gestured at her, while Michonne kept looking at her, "You can talk," Rick stated, placid.

Well, she could, but she didn't want to, and she couldn't help herself but test the waters a bit further, too… because she wasn't that much of a sucker, nope. "If I wanted to talk to Michonne," she said, putting a shrug in her voice, "I would've gone to her." She twisted aside towards the woman, and flashed a smile, "You don't mind, do you?"

Michonne gave her a glare but left the room. Rick glowered at her instead. "What's it? If you're still—"

She cut him off, "You need to talk to Daryl," she barged on then, the words appearing out of her mind, because she couldn't imagine herself telling him, _we gotta go—your baby girl's cries are making me crazy. _"He's getting on hot an' cold, and Beth's started having a Florence Nightingale syndrome. It gotta stop."

Rick looked at her, almost dumbfounded. "He's ghosted on her three times!" Amanda cried out. Still no word, she shook her head, "You guys ever read Cosmo?" she asked dryly, "Ghosting—disappearing—"

Rick cut her off this time, "I got the idea," he bit, "What do you want from _me_?"

"I don't know—" she shrugged, "Go with him beating the crap out of walkers, or…or go on a supply run—or a booze night—I don't know… do what you guys do for bonding in the zombie apocalypse." She shook her head, "He needs to make up his mind. This way—you say it doesn't work like this anymore," she told him for the last, and it sounded the truth. The relationships didn't work as they used to, either, she understood.

Solemnly, Rick nodded. "I'll talk to him."

She nodded back, and she knew she had to leave now, because she had no reason to stay any longer, the rest— talking had been always her forte, she knew how to talk to people, how to talk into people to get them… but… "Why don't you want to leave?" she directly asked, biting the bullet.

Staying silent, Rick rested back against the chair and crossed his arms across his chest. "There's something you don't tell me—_us_," she corrected, and went on, "You don't want to leave and I don't believe it's because you enjoy living like hippies."

For a moment, Rick stared at her, look and hard, then accepted, "No, I don't." But he stopped there, still looking at her.

"I can find out, you know, that redhead half drunk…" she told him the truth then. Because she really could, but she…didn't want to…go behind his back and she wondered if he could see it, "He's just in the middle of it, and he already said too much. I know you were trying something before you came to Grady, something like—_saving the world_…" She drawled out the words and watched as Rick's face got stiff, his bearded face turning to a gruff stone, "I'm trying to play nice here, Rick, being honest and open—not going behind your back-" She gave him a little smile, "Am I still not reasonable enough?"

Like the each time she uttered those words, his jaw twitched, a gleam glinting darkly in the depths of his eyes… _be reasonable_, he'd told her those exact words whenever he'd come groveling to her at Grady when she had the upper hand, words saying, _don't turn this into a bloody mess,_ and each time, somehow she had listened to him. Well, like he'd said, it was more because of the men he had at his back, but she had listened to him at the end.

"Are you enjoying this, aren't you?" Rick asked suddenly, "Pushing my damn buttons?"

The question took her by surprise, and she was a little bit shocked to see that he was right, that she was enjoying it, she was frustrated, annoyed, but she was also enjoying it. Her smile dropped. She wasn't supposed to enjoy _it_. "I just want to leave this place."

He shrugged. "Then leave."

She fixated her eyes at his. "Do you want me to?" she asked, and this time it was his turn to be caught by surprise.

"I want you to…get off my back."

She shot up from the couch. Well, she had _tried_. Just talking didn't seem like…working. "It's not just _me_!" so she pushed, "Everyone is getting sick of this place. And everyone knows that Noah's family out there behind walls—"

"Because you make him talking about it all the time!" Rick pulled up at his feet, walking around the clustered table to come at her side, his eyes blazed, "Don't talk like I'm not aware of what you're angling. Not going behind my back, damn you are not!"

"Look, I don't know what happened, but I get that you don't trust people out there—" she said, her tone despite her best efforts turning dry, "and I'm sorry that you had to rip off a man's neck to save your boy—"

He grabbed her, pulling her closer sharply, "Who told you _that_?" he rasped out.

Damn! There were more than four ways that she been taught to break such a grip but as her eyes widened she only started back pedaling because she'd done a mistake. She'd pushed damn too hard. "Beth," she answered in a breath, "She was just trying to make me trust you. She meant no harm," she added quickly, getting afraid that she would get Beth into this, too. And that wouldn't be good. First, she didn't want to, and if Rick got mad at Beth slipping off things about him, then Daryl would get involved, too, then things would turn ugly. "She said you're a man who can do anything to protect your family."

It worked, his anger subsided, and he let her go. "There is nothing we're hiding," Rick told her then, "Not some big secret. Glenn and Tara met up with Abraham's group while looking for Maggie. Maggie was looking for them, too. After they met, they decided to go with him, Abraham was on a self-appointed mission to go to D.C, to bring Eugene there. Eugene said he had a cure that would stop the infection, but it was a ruse—he just wanted Abraham and his group to bring him safely to D.C."

She listened, and shook her head, "You roasted _me_ because I went along with Dawn's madness," she bit off. Rick shrugged off. She then shot at him a look, "Maggie looked for Glenn?" she asked frowning, because she knew the bigger Greene had written Beth as death.

Rick nodded, "And that's what Daryl tries to hide from _her_—no one is hiding anything from you," he remarked dryly.

"Well, thank you for your honesty," she bit back.

Rick looked at her, "If I suddenly showed up at Grady with twenty three heavily armed people behind my back, what would have you done?" he asked a moment later.

"We have Noah," she reminded him, "He could breach contact."

He gave her a look, looking like she had gone mad. "Really?" he shot back, "What did _you_ do when I showed up with five men _and_ Noah?"

She let out a groan, shaking her head, but understood, finally understood…why they were staying, "I—I tried to send you away."

"If we go there, it means war," he told her then, still looking at her, "I didn't go to Grady to live there, Amanda, I went to take back Beth. But If I go there, I'm taking it."

She ran her eyes away, "You said it was a hash world out here, and it _is_," she muttered.

"And you haven't seen the half of it _yet_," he said back, "They tried to kill us, hurt us… rape us… They even tried to _eat_ us, Amanda—Those maniacs at Terminus…they lured us into their compound like lambs into a slaughterhouse, they _ate_ a piece of one of us..." Her eyes widened, but missing pieces started falling into places, too… their reluctance to talk about anything happened at that place, "But I'm still not that man," he remarked firmly, and he turned to look ahead, and the words he uttered the next sounded more to himself than her, "And I won't be."

That moment Amanda realized another thing about Rick Grimes, too, that despite of his threats, barks, and bites, he was not the man who would go and wreck havoc on people unless he had a good reason or any other option, and for a moment Amanda didn't know if she would kick him for being an idiot or kiss him for still being this noble even after everything had happened to him.

At the end, she settled with muttering…"I still fucking hate this place."

"Get used to it," he only said back.

* * *

_A/N: Okay, finally it happened, a Amanda POV, but I thought it was about time._

_And I swear the next chapter, Beth and Daryl will finally talk, and we WILL leave the church..._

_Daryl is being stupid, yes, but you know how it's with *those* guys... I had my own run with one of them, too... Can I just give out a BIG sigh here, and finish it there? Ugh._

_BUT I was waiting for a long time to make Beth tell Daryl "you're not the boss of me." :)_


	18. Chapter 18

_A/N: So it's happening, guys!_

XVIII.

The second perimeter's trenches were coming around pretty good as the sun rose high in the sky around midday, but it was no use, the last autumn chill was biting, sun was almost invisible under the dark grey clouds, humidity oppressing—the threat of a looming storm heavily hanging out up in the air. It wasn't raining but Beth wished it had, because this was worse, much worse, waiting storm to hit—knowing that sooner or later it was going to start—the anticipating of it was like a watching a train wreck.

She wondered Daryl would come back around at least before midnight—so they could talk. It was dangerous to stay out there all by himself without any good reason aside than being plain stupid, and they needed to talk. She needed to convince him, made him understand. She couldn't take it anymore, she just couldn't. She went inside the church. Amanda had left with the former wards, and Sasha and Tyreese accompanied her like she had said. Rick and Michonne were in the woods, looking for more logs to barricade the grounds, taking Glenn and Maggie with them too. They'd redone the porch too, so more logs, branches were needed.

With all people scattered around to different chores, inside of the church was much calmer than the morning, and she was glad. She went to Carol's side and sat on the floor as the older woman play with Judith. The little baby girl was calmer than the morning, too. Perhaps like them she was getting irritated with all people around her as well. It wasn't right, a baby should have her own privacy, should have her own natural time.

Suddenly she remembered how mad she had felt when she'd found out Lori was pregnant, how it hadn't sounded her _right_, bringing someone else—a little, innocent baby into this world… and she felt the sentiment again. She loved Judith with all of her heart, would do everything for her but this world wasn't really a place for babies… not anymore. A part of her railed against the idea, that part still wanting to hang on birthdays, holidays, summer picnics, even though she knew it was stupid, but the harsh reality was there—in front of her very eyes… something she couldn't ignore.

She brought her hand to touch at Judith's cheek… slowly caressing her smooth skin… She felt like crying… "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, honey," she told the baby, "I wish things wouldn't be like this."

Carol looked at her, a kind understanding in her eyes. "You have to give him time," the older woman then told her, "He's just like a baby, too. All these people…they rattle him." Beth lifted her eyes at Carol. "He didn't get an easy life, you need to understand that."

"I know," Beth told her back, letting out a sigh, pulling her hand back because she didn't want the baby…getting rattled, "I—don't want to push him—" she confessed, "Amanda says he's in his comfort zone."

Carol smiled. "Amanda Shepherd doesn't look like to me as a woman to take relationship advice from, Beth."

Yeah, well, there was that, too, even Amanda would accept it. "You need to take it slow, ease him into it," Carol went on, "Don't try to push him out of his comfort zone, be with him there. We'll welcome you. He wants you there."

Beth looked at her doubtfully. "You think so?"

"He told me about funeral home," Carol answered, bending down to pat Judith's stomach as the face pinched and started making those little cries, "He sounded he was quite…happy."

Beth looked at the baby. "Do you think she's got colic?" Beth asked, looking at Judith's pinched face.

Carol nodded, "Teeth make gas and fever, it's natural." She caressed Judith's blonde hair, "Poor thing."

"He was…happy, I think," Beth said, caressing Judith's stomach to reveal her gas, then frowned, "Then why every time we…eased into it, we got disappeared just right after?"

Carol frowned back at her. "Did he tell you what happened? How he opened the door without checking?"

_Oh_. All in honesty, Beth had forgotten about that. "Do you think he still blames himself for that?"

Carol gave her a look, lifting her head up from Judith. "Oh…" Beth muttered out then frowned even more, "So is it the reason why he's staying away from me? Because I make him weak?" she asked, because it was exactly how she'd felt—she'd thought she was making him weak, had turned him into a fool who had gone opening the doors without checking first.

No wonder he wanted to stay away…

"If you want Daryl, you have to be ready of his tantrums," Carol only warned her in answer, straightening up as if she had to be prepared for much worse than _just_ disappearing without a word. She looked around, letting out a silent sigh, remembering how he'd been when he'd come to the farm the first time, almost two years ago. He wasn't like that man anymore, but that man was still somewhere underneath, hadn't gone completely, Beth had seen his glimpses when they had fought each other drunk. "You're also very young, he needs time to get over that, too," Carol continued, and suddenly asked, "Beth, are you a virgin?

Beth's head snapped at the older woman, surprised. "I—um—yeah," she admitted, bowing her head, trying to understand the older woman's point.

Carol smiled, shaking her head, "And you _wonder_ why he's dragging his feet."

Okay, so yeah, he felt like _she_ was making him weak, and probably also felt like some kind of an old pervert having a Lolita syndrome, she got it, _but_ why it always had to be _her_? She was getting sick of being of the one who _always_ had to be understanding, the one who always had to be forgiving, accepting… waiting empathetically. Her sister had written her off as death and she tried to be forgiving, Daryl had given cold shoulder so many times, she tried to be understanding, and Carol was basically telling her now to be tolerant—like she was a sort of doormat… and he could come and go into her life as he wished on his own time, like her wishes didn't matter, and it wouldn't matter at all because she would be _always_ there, no matter what, forever waiting. Because she was Beth, and Beth was always a nice, _good_ girl, understanding.

Well, no, that didn't work well with her, not really. Because she got her _own_ wishes, too, that little thing in the fight made them quite clear to her, and Amanda was right, there was no point in in ignoring a fact, and she didn't want to ignore them, dammit! She didn't want to be a doormat, someone taken always for granted. "Well, he gotta make up his mind," she snapped, "I might be a virgin, but I don't plan to die as one."

Now, come to think of it, it really sounded pathetic. She almost finished her eighteen years in this world, and was still a virgin in the apocalypse. It wasn't like that she got all the time, either. She could die in a moment—a herd of walkers could just overrun them as they spoke. They lived in a world like this…in a world anything could happen in a blink, and Carol was advising her to be patient and gave him time. No, they didn't _have_ time. Didn't everything that had happened to them prove that fact repeatedly?

No, waiting definitely wasn't working with her. She'd done with waiting.

# # #

Daryl returned towards the evening before the pale sun set down in the dark grey sky, dark clouds getting heavier each passing hour. Daryl wished it'd rained, it'd just suit his current mood, and a day like this surely had to be bad.

He'd slipped off this morning, _again_ before Beth woke up, and forced them to have a talk. He knew he wasn't being fair, hell, he was being an utter asshole to her. But they needed to talk, and he just didn't want it. He'd never been doing on that. He normally used to just bail out after a night—wouldn't need to deal with aftermath—if anyone would care, that was it, but he surely hadn't. God, he had been such a dickhead before, he just figured out. Leaving the girls in the nights without a word while they slept… He _hated_ making morning-afters, the forced small talk, the uneasy "would you call" again shit. Leaving off in the night was just the best, no unnecessary drama. But he couldn't do that to Beth. First, Beth was different, she was different than all the other women he'd been with before, and second, there wasn't anywhere to bail out to, not really. He couldn't go on like this, slipping off before the dawn, coming back around midnight. Rick needed him, his people needed him. This way he was no use to anyone, even to Beth. He had to get his shit together.

He grunted out inwardly. They really needed to talk, and he _hated_ talking.

When he arrived to the compound, the second trenches were half done, and Rick waved at him, climbing down the steps of the small church. Daryl dropped his load of logs, bounded together by a rope across his back, and walked toward the man.

"Hey, good to see you _again_," Rick said as a way of greeting, and Daryl let the dry comment pass by.

"Uh," he grunted, "Whassup?" he asked.

"Is there more logs we could find, bigger—something we could use as screeners?" Rick asked back, gesturing the logs he had disposed on the ground seconds ago, "We gotta create some sort of privacy inside the church before people start killing each other," he said.

Daryl gave the other man a look. Rick eased a half shrug, "Amanda has been _talking_."

"Uh," Daryl grunted out again, "She _does_ that."

Rick nodded solemnly, "Uh-uh. Better give her something before she starts another uprising," he said, and Daryl gave the man a look. Rick shrugged again. "She's got a point. If we stay, we need to have some privacy. Even Judith is taking it hard." Daryl nodded. Rick cleared his throat, "She comes to me this morning—after uh—you left." Daryl frowned. "She wanted to learn why I don't want to leave—but she's also worried about Beth." Rick paused, "I think she actually _really_ cares about her."

Daryl let out a noncommittal noise, but didn't respond because he was wondering where exactly this talk was going to. "You need to talk to Beth, this can't go on like this," Rick then finally said.

As if Daryl didn't already fucking know it. He made another noncommittal noise. Rick took a step closer to him, getting into his pose whenever he wanted to tell Daryl something important, something matter. The last time they had this kind of conversation the other man had told him he was a brother to him, and Daryl knew he had meant every word. "Look, I know it was hard for you out there, and you shouldn't blame yourself. It was only two of you…and this world…and this world is nothing like it used to be."

"Uh…" Daryl gave out another breath. "It ain't like this… It ain't gonna be… it ain't gonna work. The world ain't changed that much. I—" He stopped, and looked at Rick, "Tell me, man, if Beth _was_ really your kid, even now would you want her to be with someone like me?"

There was a pause, a bit of hesitancy then Rick tactfully said, "I called you brother, I know who you're, Daryl."

Daryl nodded. "But would you still want her to be with _me_?"

Rick was an honest man, someone who would give you always the honest answer, so it wouldn't surprise Daryl to hear it. "No," he finally said after a long pause, and sighed out. "You gotta keep away," he then warned, "You gotta let her work it out. She _is_ young."

"I _know_," Daryl grunted out. Giving him another look, Rick nodded. They started walking back to the church. Shepherd was there on the porch, watching them with a keen look, unabashed. "You gotta be careful with that one, man," he told Rick, "I know their kinds… She wasn't a cop like _you_, I bet."

Rick shook his head, "No, she wasn't," he agreed, and Daryl felt better at least Rick wasn't having a sort of delusion like Beth did, "But she'll behave."

Daryl had his doubts, but he shrugged, as long as she played nice, the damn woman wasn't his, but Rick's problem. Leaving him at the porch, Daryl went inside to look for Beth. Well, if things had come this point, he'd better to finish this, before the rest of their little community came to _talk_ to him. He surely wouldn't take any of this shit from Maggie.

He found inside with Carol, sitting on the floor beside Judith, gently patting the baby's stomach. His heart swelled in chest, tightened, and he pushed away the sudden thoughts the sight had brought to him. That was what Beth deserved, and what exactly Daryl Dixon couldn't give. Breathing in silently, he stood in front of them, "Beth—" he called, and watched her she turned surprised hearing his voice, and looked at him over her shoulder, "Come…" he motioned with his hand. "We...gotta talk."

# # #

Just every time Beth thought she figured him out, Daryl Dixon managed to surprise her. Though, being simply surprised didn't even begin to cover to hear him calling at her. Astonished, amazed, stunned worked much better, because she'd been thinking of the ideal scenarios since this morning to have this talk, but in none of those scenarios she had never thought of him being the one coming to her, telling her they had to talk like it wasn't him doing the exact thing since two weeks.

Yes, Daryl Dixon always managed to surprise her, but her surprise was short-lived, much like her happiness with him, as she saw the look over his face more closely—the way his lips clenched, his jaw settled—his brows tightened—a battle face, prepared, and just right that moment she understood she was going to hear one of those talks Amanda had mentioned—_it's not about you, but it's about me._

Disappointment and hurt gripped her insides, watering her eyes… but she couldn't let it go this easily, not without a fight first. She had to try. She had to make him see it. She'd managed with Amanda. She'd seen the woman going after Rick when she'd returned from the woods, and she was out of the management room, her face had a lesson tension. She still didn't know what exactly they'd talked—but she knew it hadn't gone that bad. In fact, Amanda had wandered around all day like a less caged animal, less frustrated. She actually even came and sat down with them as they tried to calm down Judith, and told them, almost assuring, "Rick said he's gonna try build some sort of screens so we could create some rooms. She'd like it too, huh?" She then even patted Judith's belly, giving at her a little smile, "So you could stop crying little one, huh?"

So if she even made Amanda Shepherd calm down a baby, she would change Daryl Dixon's mind a bit, too. She would. She had to. They walked towards the second perimeters, but Daryl passed it too when they had come there, and kept walking to little clearing in the woods, where they couldn't be disturbed. They were still close to the church, but safely away. Then he stopped there, looking at her, but making no noise.

She waited, waited, waited, but he just looked at her… She shook her head. "I don't understand it, Daryl, I really don't…"

He nodded, "I know—" he said with a small voice, then confessed, "I'm sorry. It ain't fair to you. I ain't fair to you."

"Good. You at least know you're being a jerk."

"More than a jerk," he mumbled.

She pursed her lips, "Could you please be done with self pity. I really can't take it right now." Anger had started rising in her, the harsh feel of rejection and uncertainty burning her insides, remembering all the times she was kept hooked hanging on, "First, you _left_ me without a word at Grady—then accused me of ignoring you, then you went disappearing again for two days…just because I…uh…made a move on you—then you came back, slept with me in the same bed—_then_ disappeared again! Now you say we need to talk, but you just stand there, looking at me…" She shook her head again, "What do _you_ want, really?"

That somehow angered him, too. "What do _you_ want me to do?" he inquired, "What do you want, Beth?"

"What I want…is very simple, Daryl," she seethed, "I want you stop running and accept it, dammit. I want us to be together. I don't wanna wait anymore."

Daryl gave out an incredulous laugh. "You want us to be together? You want us to be a couple?" he asked, coming closer, stepping in on her, inches away, "Do you even _who_ you're talking to?" he asked, his voice was as dry as fallen leaves under their boots, "I ain't that man."

"You _weren't_ that man," she reminded him, still fighting on, because she couldn't stop, he had to understand, he had to see it. "You can be _more_."

He looked at her, "Because of you?" he asked, the same dryness was cutting through his tone now, turning it acerbic, "Because you're—special?"

She flinched like he had hit her, "Because _we_'re different now."

Daryl shook his head, "No, it's different, and _you're_ special," he told her, admitting, "and I care about you… in more ways than I'm supposed to… But…" She stopped, her heart in her throat as he let out another sigh, "That man ain't me, Beth, has never been, would never be, too. I can't be that man."

"Yes, you can," because he could, if he really wanted to, but what Amanda had said was true; he didn't want to, "but you just don't want to…" She shook her head, tears in her eyes.

"This ain't no damn romance novel, girl, don't act like you ain't aware."

"I'm not stupid, I know it isn't. I just want us to be together, why it's so hard? Are you really that afraid? Me being so young is really that bad?" She raised her arms to her sides, "Why do you act like if we're together, it'd be the end of the world?"

"It _is_ the end of the world," he emphasized each word, "and that's the only reason why we're having this conversation, Beth." He took another step in on her, "Seriously, in what kind of a world do you imagine yourself with me? Be honest. Tell me, if the world ain't like this now, if I ain't the only one you got now… if you were still at your farm with your daddy and with Maggie, would you have still wanted to be with me? How Daryl Dixon would actually have chance with Beth Greene if there was nothing left to her from her old world?"

She shook her head, "It wasn't like that", she objected.

"It was exactly like that, Beth," he insisted, "You just don't want to admit it."

"This's the world we got. It's not something we could change," she said, "And I still got someone left to me from my old world," she reminded him, just to prove him wrong, but he wasn't right…it wasn't like that… "I still have Maggie."

Daryl let out a laugh, as if she had said the biggest joke in the world, "Yeah… You still have Maggie, the sister who wrote you off as death," he grounded out, "the big sister who didn't even look for you but looked for Glenn…"

A heavy silence fell in between them. "What did you say?" she asked in a whisper a moment later.

His face got stiff, turning to stone. He turned back to her, "Nothin'" he mumbled out.

She rushed at him and grabbing him to turn him back to her, "What the fuck _did_ you say?" she asked again, even though she knew the answer, even though she had always known, but just wanted to ignore, just all the things she didn't want to see. Some fool she was believing if she didn't see the truth, it would just fade away. But it was there—it was always there, _waiting_.

"Beth—"

She shook her head, tears falling, and she hated it—just hated it, crying in front of him. "Don't." she warned, "_Don't_."

"Beth!" he repeated, but his voice was raised a bit, alert, and… in panic…? "Beth-!" He then grabbed her hand, and started running, "Run!"

She could only spare a look over her shoulder, seeing the walkers approaching them from the tree lines… walkers more than she could count. She started running—her hand still in his hand, but her mind drawing a blank point, but she kept running—not even faltering for once, like she was a blood-and-flesh life-size doll, only with one purpose. She didn't want to die, that was only thing she knew anymore… the only thing left to her… the only thing she got... running for her life.

_If you don't have hope, what's the point of living, _her father asked from somewhere in the long forgotten memories, but she didn't know the answer, not anymore.

# # #

For the first time in a long time, Amanda was having a good day. Not only because she'd listened to Beth and reached out, trying something different and sort of managed to find a common ground between Rick and herself, not only because Rick had come to her later stating that they would try to create some stuff to creative a sort of separate rooms in the church to have a bit of privacy, as if he was giving something back to her because he knew she was trying, as if he cared for her—not even only because he added that maybe they could go to Noah's home and check around a bit.

"We could take Noah there," he had said, resting on the railings of the porch, "We take a car and go with four or five people, not threatening enough. We could check out and see what kind of people they are." He paused, "Noah says it's five hundred or so miles in the north, but we could take one of the vehicles."

"I'll come," she had said, and he had nodded back.

It felt good, it felt like… she didn't know… safe. Beth was right. She could be safe here, with him. He was a honest, good man who could do anything for his family, and she realized that she wanted to be a part of his family, too. Amanda really _hated_ leading anything. She'd become very possessive of the hospital after she got in the charge, because she was that way after she achieved something with teeth and nails, but she'd waited long enough until she'd become absolutely sure that she had no other option with Dawn, and Lamson and O'Donnell should never been given that kind of responsibility, but herself… No. She'd taken a very good care of herself, but when it was taking care of others…it was way too complicated for her tastes.

No, she could just lie down and let Rick Grimes handle things here… enjoying… the zombie apocalypse. She knew it sounded selfish but Amanda had no problems with being selfish. She always knew herself, had no qualms of accepting herself for what she was, too. A selfish, self-serving bitch that only looked for her own skin.

But…maybe…just maybe she could be more.

For the first time in her life, Amanda found herself willing to try.

She even went inside and looked for the baby once, too, patting her on the belly, poor thing… but she was a lucky baby girl, having such a father who would do anything to keep her safe, and Amanda wondered how it must've been to have a father like this—but forced the thought away, she was enjoying her day.

The weather was shit, there was a looming storm in the horizon, she knew some time in the night, there would be rain, but she didn't care. It _was_ a good day. There was a flutter in her chest, too, something she couldn't name, and it took her almost whole day wandering around to realize it what it was—hope. For the first time for a long time, Amanda then realized she was feeling hope.

That alone should've been enough to unsettle her—enough to make her alert—things never went this good in her world—her luck when she was born had come on a short supply, so she really should've seen it coming, but she didn't, because she was a hopeful idiot.

"WALKERS!" Rick's voice bellowed from the trenches where she was enjoying herself at the porch as he rushed back to the church, and everything turned to the way it always had been with her.

A crapfest uncertain chaos.

Jolting up at her feet, she looked for Lamson then just a few feet apart from her, she saw him getting down by half of dozen rotters. She stared at the scene for a second, her eyes widened, the next second she threw herself inside the church an automatic mode, trained reflexes and muscle memory moving her on instinct. "Whitney!" she shouted, "Cynthia! Where are you?"

And that was exactly why she hated of responsibility, being responsible for anyone; it grew on her conscience, keeping her awake in nights, sticky with questions like…what if… She _hated_ asking _what ifs…_

What if I were a bit longer… What if I had a hair a bit blonder… What if I had eyes greener… What if I just had a family that would keep me around a bit longer...

Yes, her life would be damn easier if she didn't get that damn conscience she decided once again as she rushed to Whitney's side as the older woman was about to get bitten by a walker who had breached inside.

She had no idea how they would go past the trenches they had put up or come inside the church, but she knew not to ask questions like this—this was a world everything would go bad in moment of a blink… And it was funny... ironically, acerbically funny that how many time she messed up around saying she could still hope the place would get overrun by dead so they could leave, and just the day she'd decided to stay, it was gone.

The world or the god had a sense of humor, she had to admit.

She wondered if the world had been always like this to Rick. He'd told her she hadn't even seen half of it yet, and she knew now he had been right on that. That was one part luck hadn't failed her. She didn't know how many walkers she had killed, she didn't how many of them she'd just kicked out of her way, but when she finally managed to flee outside from the trap door in the management office with others, she knew the causalities would be very high and heavy.

She dropped on her knees in the clearing they'd found themselves. Rick and Abraham had managed to seal the walkers inside the church with the fire truck, the rest they had dealt with themselves, but they had lost everything.

The guns, the food, their stuff, the beds, bag packs… everything was gone…now belonged to the dead.

"What happened?" Daryl asked—he was with Beth, who was looking like a ghost, so pale, but she couldn't decide if it was about the attack or something else.

"They—they must've followed someone…" Rick told then, "Who else than us went out today?" he yelled at them.

Beth was looking at her—blue eyes staring at her—but they weren't the blue eyes she had known now, they were curt and unkind…stark, like their lights dim out… and they were looking at searching… Something was wrong. Something wasn't right with her. "Was it you? You brought them here?" she then asked with a seething whisper.

Amanda looked at her, shocked. Standing up, she shook her head. "Are you gone mad?" she snapped, "Why I'd do that?"

"To make us leave? And yes, you would…wouldn't you?"

This was insane. Just fucking insane. She shook her head, "You're out of your mind."

"You said you would just hope the place would get overrun—"

She cut off Beth, "I was joking! Didn't mean—"

Then Rick walked to her, his eyes fixated on hers. "Amanda, where were you today?"

She recognized the look he was giving her. She was all familiar with those kinds of looks. The doubt—the suspect, distrust… "I didn't do it—" she bit off, her voice thinner than a hiss.

His face was unrecognizable, full with furry. There was blood on his face, on his beard, guts still stuck on him, and his hand left blood prints over her jacket as he grabbed her at her upper arms. He pushed her at the tree behind her. "Answer the damn question!" His eyes were still on hers, now almost as dark as the night, "Where were you?"

"I was—around—" she answered, a laugh almost ripping out of her… She was enjoying her good day… She couldn't help it, she smiled at the irony.

It undid him. His right hand found his way around her throat. "Was it you?" he hissed at her, leaning in on her face so closer his breath brushed over her lips, "Did you bring them here to make us leave?"

She tried to shake her head. "I—came to you. I t-talked to you-" she forced out the words through her tightening throat, but who she was talking to, to him or to herself, she wasn't sure. She started counting down from six— but didn't try to move from his grip. And standing in half circle, they all watched it… three… "I—didn't—" she coughed out with difficulty over pain, her eyes watering, but she didn't know if it was from pain or something else, "N—not me…" she forced out again, "It w—wasn't m—me…"

"It wasn't her—" a low squirrel cut in—"It wasn't her," the father stated, "I—I went t-to school today. I'm sorry."

Rick pulled back a step, his hand dropped. She fell on her knees and her hands on the ground. Rick was asking—barking something at the father, but she didn't care. She just fucking didn't care. _Fool,_ a snicker inside her mind was screaming, _this is what happens when you trust anyone but yourself… _

Some fool she was, yes. The earth in front of her started getting wet, and for a second she thought it was her tears, but a second later she understood it started raining. She smiled—and started laughing.

A hand touched her, "Amanda?" and she heard Rick's voice calling at her softly.

She raised her head, straightening up, and pushed back off of his hand. "Don't you _ever_ fucking touch me again!" she spat.

Stumbling on her feet, she turned and walked away.

# # #

Beth stood there, and watched the scene with unconcerned eyes. She felt numb, detached. The scene should have brought her remorse, her mind knew, Amanda was innocent, and Beth had caused Rick almost strangle her but there was no remorse in her. Her insides felt just hollow. Like a doll, a life-size, blood and flesh doll, bright and shinny outside, fake and empty inside.

Aimlessly, her eyes wandered around. The dead were everywhere, the corpses undead and their death. The people they had lost, but they—her so-called family wasn't looking at them, but they were all looking at her. "Beth?" Maggie whispered her name in a question, concern and all in her voice, and it sparked something inside her, something burning.

It hurt too, but it felt…good, it felt… awake. Beth turned to her. "Is it true?" she asked back. She didn't need to answer, she already knew it. Daryl wouldn't lie to her about something like this, too, she could even see now how he'd tried to hide it from her, all those poignant tense silences she'd been sensing, but Beth still needed to hear it from Maggie's lips. She _wanted_ to hear it from her lips. "You looked for Glenn?"

A sob came out form her, and tears followed, "Beth—"

She only laughed back. "Sorry for being such a burden to you, sis," she told her once sister, and started walking to her. Such family they were; from holidays, birthdays and summer picnics they had come to _this_. "I should relieve you of it then, I guess." She stopped in front of Maggie, "You're not my sister, and I am not yours, either. I'm dead to you, and you're dead to me."

* * *

_A/N: Hah, well, what I meant when I said "it's happening" was actually bringing them a point of literally not talking to each other, while equally being miserable. Walking Dead like their characters being miserable, I shall not stay behind the tracks :) But jokes aside, that was my plan from the start after deciding to continue the story, Daryl being a prick slipping of Maggie, Beth falling into a depression, Amanda getting almost choked by Rick just after she decided to lower her shield, and start trusting people again... Hope you're not hating me._


	19. Chapter 19

_A/N: Please, be aware that you're reading a fan story that takes place in Walking Dead world, this chapter will cover some defense mechanisms that people sometimes delve into, so remember... This is Walking Dead. Be kindly warned._

_PS. I think I also made an error with the location of Noah's home town, it was actually very far away from the church. I'll fix it later. Here it has the correct location._

XIX.

In the heart of the darkness, Beth sat on the muddy grounds and watched the rain. It was cold, almost freezing. The chill of the night was soaking into her bones, her clothes heavy and sodden, plastered on her skin. She was trembling but she wasn't sure it was because of the cold, or rain, or something else. It didn't hurt anymore, but felt foggy like she was under heavy drugs. Absently she raised her hand and rubbed her cheek, trying to get rid of blood over her skin. It seemed like a good idea. They'd all settled down in the clearing too, and each of them trying to come up with the reality that they were out of the wild again, without anything, strayed and lost. They'd stopped looking at her as the implications of what had happened set in, making her little scene a few hours ago unimportant, trivial.

It was trivial. _Beth_ was trivial, even to her own sister. Her lips formed a small, bitter smile. That seemed to be a theme with her. Even Daryl had casted her off as trivial, something he couldn't bother even try to be different, didn't want to. He cared yes, even he'd admitted, cared for her in the ways more than he was supposed to, but at the end not that much… What was that movie she'd remembered at Grady—_He's just not that into you..._ And he really wasn't.

It really didn't hurt anymore, though; it was as if she was out of her body and watching it happening to someone else. She would've said _oh, poor thing_ and felt bad for the person if it'd been anyone else, but she didn't feel bad, either. She didn't feel anything at all. All things considered, Beth didn't mind it. It wasn't so bad…not feeling a thing.

Amanda walked back the clearing under the trees, her pace strong and decisive, her lips set in determination. She was in her no-nonsense pose, her shields raised up in defense, Beth could see. And even from where she sat under the faint moonlight in the rain, she could also see the angry finger prints at her neck where Rick had grabbed her. Then she felt it… a pang of guilt sipping through the numbness inside her at the sight, but she couldn't just open her mouth and say something—say she was sorry—say she didn't mean it—say that she didn't really think Amanda would have done such a thing. It'd just happened, and she even didn't know why she'd done it. Was she angry? Hurt? It was hurting then, she remembered. Had she just channeled her resentment of hearing about Maggie and the rejection of Daryl on Amanda? She'd felt hollow, empty, but also…betrayed, she realized, with no remorse. But it wasn't because of Amanda. Now she'd broken the against-at-all-odds friendship she'd managed to form with the policewoman, too. She didn't mean it but admitting it sounding bad to even her own ears, and she wasn't sure if Amanda would like to hear it, as well.

"Where is he?" Amanda asked, not looking at Rick nor at her, only looking straight ahead, "I'm gonna do it."

Rick shook his head. Beth wondered if Rick felt that pang of guilt, too, because she knew he'd broken Amanda's fragile trust in him, too, and how the older woman kept wandering around the whole day, keeping saying Rick would do this and that… A part of her still knew that Amanda earned the distrust she had been showed up with after all the machinations she had done since she'd come here, and even before that at the hospital, but still it felt wrong. But it didn't hurt now, she understood, it was just…the way things were now in this world. Family, love, friendship… they meant nothing.

"It's okay," Rick told Amanda, placid and unapologetic as ever, "I'll do."

Finally turning to him, Amanda gave him a seething look. "I said I'm gonna do it."

Rick walked to her, "Amanda, look—"

Cutting him off, Amanda took her gun in her hand, "I'm _gonna_ do it."

Rick simply nodded then. "Okay."

Beth knew what they were talking about. Lamson was dead, got bitten by the walkers, and someone had to deal with him before he turned on.

Deal with him… such a wording for such a thing.

But she guessed they were just doing it, dealing with the stuff they'd been handed with. There was only staying alive and Beth was just a girl who was trying not to die in the apocalypse. It was even stupid of her thinking she could be…_more_. Thinking _they_ could be more.

A single shot came in the distance a couple of minutes later, and Amanda walked back a minutes later than it, and Beth couldn't be sure if it was rain on her cheeks or tears. At the end, she decided it didn't differ, they all looked the same.

They all looked the same for that matter. Stranded at the wilderness, lost in the darkness, and it was the end of the world. She lay down on the mud, trembling, her insides still feeling numb. Rick and Tyreese had started to dig another grave, for another person they had lost. She'd never known Lamson for real, but no one deserved such a fate. It made no difference at all; it was all their fate now.

She saw a pair of boots at the level of her eyes, a familiar pair of boots, then smelled the familiar scent of leather—as familiar sight of angel wings caught at her as the vest was draped over her. She shrugged it off, falling it into the mud paddle in front of her, but didn't lift her eyes to look up at him.

She had no desires to see him now. She didn't want anything of his, either. She just wanted him gone, wanted him to leave her alone.

But she couldn't even bring herself to care to say it aloud. So she just kept looking ahead at his boots, hoping it would be enough, and after a few seconds reading the dismissive gesture, Daryl turned back, not making a sound, not even a protest. Again, she watched him as he walked away from her.

And she swore it was the last time she watched anyone she cared walking away from her. She wasn't going to make the same mistake again.

Maggie came later, too, and she was much more persistent, openly crying even in the rain—begging—imploring— "Please, Beth—just please—let me explain…"

She was only half listening—There was a tune in her mind, a long forgotten tune turning under the hazy fog, something familiar… something she'd hummed herself before… before… a tune about the end and friends—and waiting for the summer rain… She watched the rain, trying to hum it to herself as she kept looking at her boots as Maggie kept talking, trembling under the rain… She was a life size flesh and blood doll… and now she was put down in a box, lying listless in the dark after the playing was done.

The woman she once called sister's pleadings in her ears, and the long forgotten tune in her mind, Beth closed her eyes, and went to sleep.

# # #

"How could you?" Maggie screamed at him, trying to get him, glazed blue eyes reddened from crying, her cheeks stained with dirt, blood, and tears. "How _could_ you tell her?"

"Tell her what?" Daryl snapped at her back, closing in on her, "The truth? The truth that you never looked for her?" He waved his arm at her, "Never _cared_!"

"It wasn't like that!" Maggie screamed again, and Daryl took another step in.

"Then how was it?" he hissed at her.

He was angry—so angry at himself—so much in guilt, and Maggie was trying her chances. Rick came in between them. "It isn't time for this," he warned, putting a hand on his chest to push him back, "We gotta decide what to do."

Come morning, they were still in the clearing, damn sodden down to their skin, desperate, and angry. The rain had stopped but the grounds were still covered with earthy mud. The morning frost was even worse than the night's chill, the wilderness around them covered with a pale thin frost. Though, sun seemed to be clear in the sky, so it wouldn't at least rain, but it also meant in the day they were going to be soaked up with sweat, but by night trembling with chill. In his mind, Beth's trembling figure appeared, and the way she shook off his vest off of her, her eyes fixated ahead, not looking at him. _You're dead to me,_ she had said to Maggie, but somehow he knew they were also directed at him. Her voice was cold, distant, like she was worlds apart from them, from _him_.

What the fuck he had done?

Just the thing he'd been trying to protect her from. He'd broken her, just he tried to make her see why he was so wrong for her, he proved his point. He hadn't wanted to tell her about Maggie, he never wanted to—he'd been trying to keep it secret from her since she was back with them. It'd just come out of him on its own—because he was really the only one she got—and she had to see it, she had to understand why this thing between them couldn't be, had to understand why it wouldn't work.

And he _was_ bitter, even he hated to admit it but he was bitter because he _knew_ this shithole world was the only possibility that he actually had a chance with her. Daryl Dixon could only be with someone like Beth Greene _just_ because they were at the end of the world, and she got no one else. It was bad enough to admit that this rotten fucking world infested with rotters were actually better than what he'd had before, admitting that he'd been nobody before, just an asshole drifting away with his bigger asshole brother, and it'd angered him, the way it angered him how she'd thought of him a jailbird, because he must have been that man, right? And he'd proved her that he _was _exactly that man.

A bitter vindictive old redneck asshole.

"We just lost everything," Tyreese said, shaking his head, "What are we going to do?"

Rick leveled at them a hard look, wandering his eyes at each of them, "what we _always_ do. We'll find a place and start over. We're still together," he told them firmly, deliberate on what was important.

_We're still together…_

Were they? Beth wouldn't even look at him now, had never lifted her head at Maggie despite all the begging the older woman had made to her last night. She just had acted like her big sister didn't exist anymore, her cries falling on deaf ears before she slept. Maggie kept begging at her whole night, and Beth _just_ slept through it.

She didn't even try to talk to Shepherd after what happened—didn't even try to apologize. It wasn't like Beth, either. She could feel at least regret for what had almost happened, Shepherd was looking like dead walking too, distant and frost, but Beth ignored her all the same, too.

One part of him wanted to go to there, wanted to talk to her—wanted to shake her off this apathy, but he couldn't. He had to keep away. He had to let her work it out. He'd caused this, and he couldn't redeem what had happened with words, couldn't rewind the past… The guilt was there, like always, weighing him down, sticky and ashes in his mouth, and inside in his head the little voices were screaming at him… _This's the man you're… a bitter vindictive old redneck asshole._

He had to go…he had to go—He needed to get away—take a break. This was too much for him. He didn't want things to go like this. He never wanted to hurt her. _Never_.

His eyes skipped and he saw her lying on the ground again, asleep, like a wounded soaked wild animal in the forest— and for a moment, Daryl really hated himself… he really did… "Noah's town," Rick continued, "We can check it. I was thinking of taking a car and go to see it with Noah. We can still do it."

"No," Shepherd's taciturn voice said behind them. They turned and saw her approaching them, that grim but decisive expression over her face. "No," she repeated with the same tone, walking to Rick, her head raised high, prepared. Daryl knew what was coming then.

"Noah's one of my own, he stayed at the hospital. I _am_ taking him," she declared, giving Rick a hard look in challenge, "I'm done with this place. I'm done with you people. We're leaving."

Rick stared at her back long, then started walking to her, "Amanda-it's not good idea," he said, "I know—"

She cut him off, "I said we're leaving. I'm done with playing nice." She unclicked her gun's holster and placed her hand on it, "_Don't_ try to stop me."

Rick shot a glance below at her hip in answer first, the turned his eyes at her. He didn't make a move though, not reach to his gun, but Daryl had seen the man acting so abruptly in the exact position so many times before, he knew if Amanda decided to bring things further, she didn't stand a chance. "We know where the town is, Noah already told me," Rick reminded her, "We _can_ still go up there."

"Then I'll just tell them what kind of people you are," she snarled at him, not backing down, her hand still on her gun.

Rick let out a laugh at that, "And what kind of people are you, Amanda Shepherd?"

She rose on her feet to snap at his face, "Not the kind that strangles people without a reason!"

"Without a reason? C'mon, gimme me a break!" Rick cried out incredulous, leaning in on her further, "You smiled!" he rasped at her angrily, "I asked if it was you—you fucking _smiled_ at me!"

Shepherd flinched back, a frown over her brows. "I—I wasn't smiling—"

She was. She _had_ smiled at Rick with that damn smile, that got your under skin, made you crawl. Daryl had seen it, so had everyone, so Daryl couldn't really understand why she was lying now.

"Look, if you want to go, go. I won't stop you," Rick told her then, sounding tired but still frustrated, "But it's harsh on the road, you _know_ it. You want to take them all by yourself to up there, more than five hundreds miles? What if your tires got broken or had trouble with motor—what if you got stranded on the road—three women who can barely hold a knife, Noah, and _you_—you know what I'm talking about." Hesitancy broke over her decisive features, and mercilessly Rick pressed on, "You'll get yourself killed or worse. Come with me, we go together, then we pretend we've never seen each other."

Looking at him for a full minute, Shepherd finally pulled her hand back from her gun. "Fine. We go together. Then we're done."

Rick nodded stiffly, and repeated, "Never seen each other."

"Good," she bit off, and turned to walk off.

# # #

"I'll come with you," Beth said as they prepared the car to leave for Shirewilt Estate. Straightening from the back of the car, Amanda looked at her coolly then shook her head, "No."

"Yes, I will—" Beth said back, "It was _me_ who first promised Noah to take him back to home." She turned to Rick, "I gotta be there."

More else, she had to be somewhere away from Daryl and Maggie, but she didn't tell him that. Rick had charged Daryl and Carol to keep the rest of the group following them as he went with Amanda to Noah' his home town ahead. Instead of staying with them, Beth opted to go with Rick and Amanda. Rick and Amanda at least only gave silent glares at each other, but not try to talk over what had happened.

Amanda was ignoring her own existence, like Beth did to Maggie, but Beth was okay with that. She wasn't looking at Beth like with eyes like she'd fucked things up beyond repair like Daryl did when he thought she _wasn't_ looking—his eyes heavy with guilt and self-hatred, and she _hated_ it seeing them, and Maggie's cries were grating on her nerves. She just wanted to be away from them, and Amanda ignoring her worked just fine for Beth. It looked like the policewoman had lost all hope on them, and Beth knew she had a point. You should _never_ depend on anyone but yourself.

She wondered how this ignoring each other would work at the end, but she hope at the estate in the Virginia would at least work a bit better, Noah had said it was a spacious community, a wealthy part of the countryside with good walls and enough room for people, and he also said they got only twenty or more people, maybe it would really work, and they could pretend they had never seen each other, like Amanda had demanded.

Oh, Beth had heard that part, too. Amanda and Rick weren't on the talking terms, but the rest of them were talking about it… when they thought they weren't in their earshot. Beth had even heard once the redhead military guy—Abraham—having a bet with his girlfriend on when they would do it. Beth wondered briefly how Michonne would feel hearing about those, would care at all. At the end, she ignored them, like how she'd ignored the talks about her and Daryl. Yes, she had heard those, too. Everyone seemed like knew what had happened between her and Daryl, as well, his rejection and the following fight, but pretending the otherwise, of course, too, and the vaudeville continued… They were some family, indeed.

She needed to change of scenery, perhaps a new state would give it to her. New people, a new place… she could be just a stranger then, whispers behind her back would stop… not that she cared, but she was just…tired—tired of hearing them.

"Fine," Amanda snapped, closing the trunk with a thud, "Do whatever you want. I don't care."

Beth knew she cared, but didn't feel like objecting her… perhaps she herself just didn't care that much, either. That was what this apocalypse turned them into; flesh-and-blood life size puppets, with a mind only for staying alive, doing everything half way down, not getting themselves caring _that_ much. Maggie loved her, but just not that much, Daryl cared for her, but not that much… _Your two boyfriends died and you wouldn't even shed a tear._

Funny enough, there were still no tears in her, crying seemed to her…almost pointless now. Meaningless. Life itself was…meaningless. Her hand suddenly found her left wrist, and she felt the broken skin under her fingers, scars running over the length of it— She snapped her hand away as if the contact burned her.

The world—the world started turning around her, she felt like she was sucking into a wilderness of pain…and there was a tune in her head, a long forgotten tune—about the end and friends—and waiting for the summer rain… the tune she had whispered at herself at night in her bed before she cut up her wrists… but it was fleeing from her—the world was fleeing from her—and she wanted to catch it—she didn't want it to end, not yet—still not yet—but she just couldn't remember it—

Her hand on instinct found the tip of the scissor she still hid in her sleeve. Turning on her heels, she walked off from them, and found herself a spot she could be alone as lonely as she felt. Then, taking the scissor in her hands, she looked at it, long and hard, she looked it… She rolled up her sleeve—and tentatively, almost gently, she pressed the tip of the scissor on her skin…

Then she remembered it… the tune…. She started humming it… _This is the end, beautiful friend, this is the end, my only friend… the end… of elaborate plans, the end, no safety or surprise, the end… I'll never look into your eyes again…_

She pushed the scissor down into her skin.

Pain—it rode through her body, through her soul… like a wildfire, and she pushed more—harder, feeling the blood starting running over her skin… She closed her eyes, breathing heavily, hissing with pain—then she welcomed it, she welcomed the pain. Pain didn't hurt anymore, no more.

Pain was good. Pain reminded her she was still there, she was still alive, and this was not the end, and her time hadn't still come yet.

_Not yet._

Opening her eyes, Beth made another slash.

* * *

_So yeah, Beth's journey continues. I think there are some grounds that any willing writer would uncover how Beth found her will to survive after her suicide attempt, so I can totally picture her self-harming herself just because to make herself remember that feeling again... Besides, for me Beth's death in canon only brought one good thing to see, and that was Daryl's way of dealing with his pain, remember that scene with the cigarette? So, needless to say, when he sees Beth in that way... Well, couldn't let the possibilities go wasted._

_This is not an angst story, though. Be sure of that, please. I don't like watching, reading, or writing people wallowing in misery, moping every minute-even in Walking Dead. I just like the journey. Hope you'll stay with me._

_The song Beth hummed is The Doors-The End. Suits just perfect._


	20. Chapter 20

_A/N: Guys, thank you so much for the feedback and encouragement you've given me, right now, I am so tired and it's already past midnight but wanted to update, just so because you were that nice :)_

_We start another POV character, this time; the sheriff of the town Rick Grimes, whoa._

XX.

_We're still together._

The words were turning in his mind on an indefinite loop as Rick tried to keep things on balance before they were undone like a tangled ball of yarn, coming apart at the seams. He himself felt like he was coming apart at the seams. He couldn't let that happen, they'd just found each other, had managed to stay alive against at all odds. They need to keep it together, they needed to hold on and endure, but it was easier to say than done.

Now everyone was at each other's throat, he himself _literally_. Inwardly, he winced, recalling the way he'd grabbed Amanda, the woman who was fast becoming the bane of his existence. His reaction was off the charts, Rick was aware, he hadn't even reacted that way to Father Gabriel, and this shit was all his damn stupidity. But the father had never tested him, had never pushed his buttons the way Amanda Shepherd had been doing. All in frankness, he hadn't really thought she'd done it, at least willingly as Beth had claimed, something was wrong with the girl, Rick had gathered –and known about _what_, too—at the first glance, but all the things she'd done since she'd been here with them, and all the things she'd done even before that, the way she'd been at the hospital… He wanted to believe that she wasn't that woman—wanted to believe that she was the woman that had saved _some people_, too, wanted to believe she was better than being a selfish, self-serving scheming witch that could do anything to get what she wanted; she had come to him, then acted like she was…sort of happy leaving things off on his hands, but there was that little nagging voice in his head—warning him—that little doubt—and all the things they had suffered out there—and he was damn too tired and damn too wired, then Amanda flashed at him that damn smile… And he snapped.

How did they come to this point, Rick didn't know. How _his_ _people_ had come to this point, he didn't know. They were supposed to be a family, bounded together not by blood but by the shared tragedies and hardship, but now they seemed alike a fractured group of people the fate had threw together, hardly functioning, dysfunctional as hell.

He _couldn't_ let that happen, still, but he hardly knew how to stop it, either, and it made him even more worked-up, strained like a barbed wire because he had to. He had to keep his people together, it was his damn job, first self-appointed, then later sort-of-elected, but it was his job, and he was failing at it spectacularly since he had let that fucking sonofabitch run over the prison and hurt his people, forcing them to run off away scattered.

Everything from then on was a shitload of trouble. They couldn't go on like this, but then they needed to go on, too, that was the way of things were now, nowhere was safe—nothing lasted, every safe have they found was only temporary.

But they were making it, like each time, and they had made it out far from worse and only time would tell how it was going to end this time. But he knew one thing. Once he was out on the road once again, he wouldn't stop until he got his people to safety. There was no dawdling, no indecision anymore. He was going to do what he had to, to protect his family. His eyes skipped to Carl, as he held Judith protectively in his arms, and his mind grew decisive. He was going to do what must be done. They were not going to have to survive another winter out in the open again.

Daryl came to his side then as he looked over the station wagon cars for the last time. There was a few things they could bring with them as most of their stuff now was left to the dead in the church—just to keep them on their feet for the journey, for the rest they would just make another supply run. The gas in the car would make the journey, so Rick was only praying for no tire or motor problems. The things he'd mentioned to Amanda to make her…be reasonable. He'd told her she could leave if she wanted—her hand on the gun and all-and he meant it. He wasn't going to stop her if she'd wanted to go, but at the same time the idea irked him—thinking her out there alone—He wanted her to get off his back—not get off in the wild to be killed or worse. "You ready?" Daryl asked, wandering his gaze over the car.

Rick nodded. "Almost." He gave the man a look, "Do you still think it's the best idea? Maybe she should stay back with you?" he asked.

To tell the truth, Rick had his own reservations about Beth accompanying them on this mission, but later Daryl had insisted that it would be good to her to stay away. Rick had seen the point, but wasn't still too convinced. For one thing, Amanda was ignoring Beth, too, and he knew the policewoman was pissed at Beth almost as much as she was at Rick. But Daryl shook his head, "No—she needs something to focus, to take her mind off what happened here. She'll hold up together as long as she puts something into her mind. She means to take Noah back to home. I know."

The words had come out of the gruff man easily. Rick gave him a look, a long searching look. It was surprising to see Beth and Daryl like this—knowing each other this well—being this close—but this world had given birth even more far fetched surprises. Rick recognized Daryl's reluctance to take things further—and if he had to be honest, he almost felt glad, too. If they chose to go on with it, he wouldn't have objected—but there was something _just_ felt wrong thinking him with Beth—Hershel's daughter—even though he knew the rules of the old world didn't apply to them anymore, but it was still there—that nagging, bugging disturbance just standing there at his subconscious. Maybe they were just old. He was sorry for his friend, for his brother, though, because he really wanted Daryl to have somebody to lean on, to trust, and to love and protect, but perhaps it was better this way. For a second, he remembered Lori, and like always the memory brought the pain and the hard taste of the failure then his eyes fell on Michonne as she stood with Carl and Judith—preparing too, then somehow moved to Amanda as she talked to her own people.

Daryl followed his gaze, too. "Beth needs to sort out things with her," Daryl stated, his surly tones also stating his displeasure, "They need to talk." Daryl paused for a second, looking at him, "You need to talk to Amanda, man. This thing can't go on like this."

Rick gave Daryl a pointed look. "I'm not on her list of favorite people right now."

"She listens to you," Daryl said back, "Talk to her. She's mad, but will listen to you." _I was choking her yesterday, _Rick told himself but Daryl continued before he could make it aloud, "She might try to choke you back first, but will listen to you at the end." He paused, frowning, and giving him a look, "She always does."

She always listened to the _reason_, not to him, but it worked the same, so he thought Daryl had a point. Rick nodded.

Daryl gave him another look, "Take care of her, 'kay?" he asked, his rasping voice so faint, and so much in anguish, for a moment, Rick wanted to take a hold on his brother's neck, bring him closer and tell him to fuck off everything and take Beth, all the rest be damned. He deserved this. _They_ deserved this. They deserved to take whatever happiness they could find in this world, because tomorrow would be just too late.

But Daryl turned back, and had already started walking away, and the moment had passed away. He saw Amanda marching at him with that purposeful stride a couple of minutes later, her face set up, her lips clenched, turned down as if she'd eaten something rotten, and she was giving him a look openly saying that he _was_ the reason.

Rick barely held on a sigh, getting irritated, because he was getting tired, _really_ tired of this, her marching at him as if she was going to war. She stood a few feet away from him, her legs open in a defensive position, holding her ground firmly, looking at him. He knew it was another challenge, much like her hand on the gun—and he knew she was still testing him—and Amanda was a sort of woman that with every given inch, she would run off miles with it, and he knew she knew that _he knew, _so he stood there too, giving her a stare back in warning… _stop testing me, woman!_

"What're you going to do if they decide to play the hard ball?" Amanda asked a second later.

Rick frowned, getting an inkling of where she was going with the inch she got before, "What do you mean?"

She held back his gaze, "You didn't want to leave before because you weren't that man," she told him, "so I'm asking what you're going to do if they don't be…reasonable? Do you have a plan?" She gave him another smile, "Or you'll just to go away and forget about it?" she asked, "Try to make it at somewhere else?"

"Are you always this pessimistic?" Rick asked back, not admitting the same questions were turning in his own head. He was going to do what it must be done. He just didn't decide yet on what. He just wanted to talk first, to see…maybe things would be okay, just for once, just for once, they could just…live together. He couldn't take the chance before, but now they were without options, out there again on the road. It was a long trip, but if it worked…

"We're talking about _you_," Amanda shot back, "Don't expect me to believe you've become optimistic just an overnight," she warned, "So don't play dumb with me. You said if you go there, you'd take it," she reminded him.

_That_ he did, and he was going to do it, too, but not before if there was no other chance. "You want us to?" he asked.

She shook her head, "There's _no_ us," she bit off, "We go together, then we're done," she said placidly.

"Then what do _you_ want to learn?"

"I want to learn what you'd do if things go wrong."

He gave her a solemn look. _Whatever I have to do…_ he passed in his mind, "I'm going there to talk," he said out loud.

She shook her head. "Do you really believe that _I'd_ believe that?"

"Believe whatever you want," he shot back, taking a step closer to her, a warning in his voice, feeling his muscles straining—stretched out—"I'm going there to talk."

"What if they say no?" she pressed further.

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he said, just to get her off his damn back before he snapped again.

"Really?" Amanda snarled back, and a derisive smile followed, "I thought you're more for burning down the bridges."

Here they were again… He took another step in on her, and really, he was really tired of this-and annoyed—and…he was coming apart at the seams and she couldn't just stop pushing him… "Look," he snapped back, trying to keep his annoyance in check, but failing, "I know you're upset—"

She took a step in on him in response, cutting him off, "Upset?" she bit off, "Because you think I'm sort of people who would do that?" she paused, "You've judged me long before that, haven't you? Do you think I missed the looks both you and Daryl gave me? Not a cop like _you_, right?"

He gave a questioning look, and asked, "Were you?" Because in truth, he just couldn't be sure.

"No!" she cried out, her eyes flashing, "No, I'm not like you, but I'm _not_ dirty, either! I've never been in one shred of it, _never_!" She paused, "But that's all what you see, right? The kind of people Amanda Shepherd is…just another dirty cop on the mob's payroll."

"It wasn't me who accused you, Amanda," he reminded her then, "It was Beth."

"Beth was hurt! She just got her first dump by the man she loves and learned his sister cares about her birds and the bees more than her. She's got excuses to be mean! What's _your_ excuse?"

"What's my _excuse, my excuse_?" Rick asked back, incredulous, because he _couldn't_ fucking believe what he was hearing, "Are you fucking kiddin' me, Amanda? You really think you're clean as a whistle in this, done nothing wrong—?" He walked in on her, cornering her against the car's door, "You really believe you didn't have it coming!" He shook his head, "C'mon, gimme a break!"

Her face contorted with anger. "You sonofabitch!" she swore in a hiss, "I _came_ to you. I came to you!"

"Just once, just once," he reminded her, "What about the other times? All the _other_ times you tried to test me, tried to manipulate me… The times that you all did what you could to play your games? Just pushed my buttons so you could see if I'd react… So yes, I'm sorry I didn't believe in you just because you came to me _once_, so I'm sorry if I wasn't quick to give you the benefit of the doubt, but don't act like you're not reaping here what you sowed!"

There were unshed tears in her eyes now, glazed in the depths of her green irises. For a few second, he thought if he'd gone far too much again, but there was something with her that brought out his worst, a conflict because even now as a part of him questioned if he had gone too far, there was another part of him was actually glad to see her like this, looking at him with tears and all. "I hate you," she seethed then, rising up on her toes to hiss out the throaty low words at his face.

Rick shook his head, his eyes fastened at her watery ones, "You hate that I'm right."

# # #

Her arm was throbbing, but Beth was focused on it like a lifeline that connected her to the world. She'd wrapped it with the red cloth had Daryl had cleaned her in the clinic when she'd thrown up. She'd washed the piece of cloth after, and kept it with her since then. It felt acrid, sour, hiding the scars she'd cut on herself with something of his, but Beth felt it also suited.

This—these scars were his, too, something he'd caused, even though she didn't like thinking of it as that. She didn't want anyone see them, either, so she'd hidden them securely under her grey cardigan, wrapped with his cloth. She wondered briefly how he might feel if he ever saw it, but then shook her head at herself. He would just think she was doing it for attention, she guessed, just how he'd thought she'd tried to kill herself for attention. He never got her. She remembered the times she'd felt she needed to tell him that it wasn't like that, that she hadn't been looking for attention, because she didn't want him think of her like that—like…like a dumb college bitch looking for attention. Her head rested on the car's window at the backseat, she smiled at her reflection, pale face, matted hair—dirty skin— He never understood her, he _never_ did.

The journey to the north, up to Virginia was…less eventful than she'd expected. Somehow it felt good to be on the road, too, and she didn't know why. Amanda was seated next to her at the backseat, her own head rested on the window, too, wrapped in her own thoughts, ignoring everyone in the car, much like Beth doing, too. Suddenly, Beth wanted to be alone with her, talk with her like they used to—she could _understand_—Amanda would tell how things were as they were, with no qualms about it, but she could understand. She always did. She could perhaps even understand why Beth had to do it… Why she needed to feel it. She couldn't talk about it plainly, though, not really she would tell some snarky thing or another, but she would get it. That was her thing.

She just wanted her friend back.

Michonne was next to Rick's side on the passenger seat at the front of the car as Rick drove the car with a set up expression over his face, his eyes focused ahead. At the back of the station wagon there were Tyreese and Noah, stashed together on the metal floor. Beth wondered how Noah must feel right now, rattled with anticipation of seeing his family once again after almost two years. This world—this world was changing everything, making them a part of its dreadful existence too. The family Noah he was going to see now perhaps wouldn't be like the family Noah had left behind. Beth could've never dreamed that her own family would've ended up like how they had, not even in her wildest dreams. Maggie and she were half-sisters, yes, but they shared the same father. They were half sisters, but apparently in this suck-ass world it didn't mean as much as it used to. Times were a-changing, so they were, too. Beth had, too. She could feel it deep in her bones_. _What even Dawn and Grady had failed to manage, her own family did. Her hand idly found her arm again and she pressed it on the scar over cardigan, and felt it throbbing—like a pulse, like her pulse, her heart throbbing.

Rick brought the radio up. "Daryl-?" he called in, Beth turned her look once again to outside. They'd passed South and North Carolina—had made through much of Virginia, too. She knew they were following behind, two cars—one driven by Daryl, the other by Carol, keeping a safety distance—before Rick introduced himself to these new people.

She hoped things would go good, but hope hadn't done them any good. That thought sounded much more like Daryl than her, so Beth brushed it away. She didn't want to sound like him, but apparently his pessimistic view of the world had rubbed itself on her, too.

"Yeah-?" Daryl voice came back just after the thought. Beth snickered inwardly.

"We're coming closer, wanted to check if you're still in the zone," Rick talked to Daryl over the radio, "If you don't hear from us in the next hour, come looking for us," he told him for the last.

Well, that was it, they were ending another journey, pushing another frontier into the unknown. Michonne and Rick shared a short look, Michonne silently giving the former sheriff the support she felt he needed, and for a second, Beth almost laughed. Amanda had been right, Michonne was much like a wife to Rick—giving support, covering his back, being always there when she was wanted, almost expected, but Beth smiled because it came to her ironic that Michonne was a sort of housewife before the world turned upside now, and she'd just managed to fix herself into her role again. Amanda was right, Michonne was a wife material, and found herself another family to fawn over at.

In another world, in another time, Beth would have longed for the same thing, too, but right now, she just wanted to tell it to Amanda, so she could hear the older woman's amused but with barely hidden sneering laughter ringing in the air, and a derisive untold "told you so" clear in it. When you thought of it, it was really amusing. Or she was really broken—in a way Amanda was, an orphan.

They parked a few miles away from Noah's town and got out of the car. Noah was almost trembling now. Tyreese gave him an encouraging smile, "It's gonna be all right, it's gonna be all right."

Beth looked at the big man. He'd said those words with such a conviction that Beth couldn't bring herself to protest even though she knew nothing was ever going to be all right in this world again. Tyreese had still hope keep on going. Beth suddenly felt jealous and mad at him, both at the same time—how he could still like this when everything was so screwed, but perhaps his time hadn't come yet, not yet, a day would come to show him what this suck-ass world truly was. Beth knew it would, someday.

As they walked to the town, Beth fell back on Amanda's side, as the other woman scanned the area with hawkish eyes, her hand loosely on her hip, touching at her gun. Rick and Michonne were taking the point, and Amanda was at their six, Noah and Tyreese in the middle. There was something being on a mission, something that made her keenly alert, focused, keeping her mind busy, and the throbbing in her arm was doing the rest. She saw a structure of rotten metal surrounding the area. Rick was questioning Noah about the spotters and snipers as Michonne kept his back. Beth tossed a glance at Amanda. "Do you know what I just remembered?" Her voice was clear and absent of anything that hung heavily between them, and Beth just told her, her eyes turning to Rick and Michonne, "Michonne was a housewife before."

Amanda's steps faltered only for a few seconds before she started walking again, then shook her head, but smiled faintly at her. "Keep your eyes open, Beth."

Beth turned back, and did; she kept her eyes open, what she saw a couple of minutes later though wasn't a safe haven, but was just another macabre.

Just another day in the apocalypse.

# # #

"_Wolves not far."_

Amanda glared at the script over the bricks, her stomach twisted into knots. This was…twisted, all of it, mutilated body parts scattered around them, made of small hills of rotten flesh, burned down houses, scrambled to ashes, and the air was so bad with odors she almost gagged. She couldn't have thought of it possible, but it was even worse than the city. Whoever did this, they were some sick bastards, and Amanda realized grudgingly that Rick fucking Grimes was right again; the world were full with sick bastards, and she hadn't even seen half of it yet. _And_ y_ou haven't even seen half of it yet._

She really hated him. She really did hate him always being _right_.

What the hell she was supposed to do now? She'd been so hell bent on thinking what they would do, how they would proceed if they didn't want to share their safe haven with them, she hadn't dwelt—she didn't _want to_ dwell what if they weren't there at all at the first place, because it would bring further questions, like what they would do after then, and she didn't want those questions. It was damn too much for tastes. She bet _he_ did, though it didn't look like it made much difference at the end.

Noah was crying. Tyreese was still holding him. Rick was having a discussion with his supposedly apocalypse wife. Michonne wanted to take a chance with Washington, and Amanda felt torn. Rick was still dragging his feet, not wanting to go along with another wild goose chase, but Michonne also had a point, even Amanda could admit it. Rick had called it as a chance, Michonne had called it a possibility, but for Amanda really didn't matter a damn shit what they called it. They needed something to lean on, and going to Washington sounded like a good idea.

Only it was too much vague, just felt to her like they would be drifting away nevertheless if they chose that. They needed a clear direction, a clear purpose. Amanda had already seen what had happened when you lost that integrity, when you lost that purpose and drifted away… she didn't want to experience it again. The times after Hanson had been really hard, she'd watched helplessly her people give up—had watched a man she'd always thought as badass put a gun in his mouth and pull the trigger. Even she'd herself thought about it a few times, like everyone else, but always put the thought away as much as forte she could've mustered up—Amanda Shepherd wasn't a quitter. If she was to die, she still preferred it to be getting eaten alive than just pulling the trigger of a gun in her mouth. Nope. No one was ever going to call her behind her back a quitter, even when she was dead. Dawn's faith—her faith that everything was going to be okay, everything was going back to normal had come like a life saver then, had kept them on their feet, kept them going on. She'd never truly believed in it, _never_, but the others did, or just wanted to, much like as she did.

Now, Dawn was dead, Grady was lost, even the church was gone, and she fucking hated fucking Rick Grimes. She stopped for a moment, looking at the graffiti over the brick walls, written with blood, asking herself why he _always_ had to be right. Perhaps she had to think of another word. Hate just didn't seem to convey what she felt for the man. She knew hatred, over the course of her life, she had met so many men she hated—men like Gorman, but Rick fucking Grimes was different. And she was upset on that fact, too.

_You hate that I'm right… _ She shook her head, brushing off away the thought and looked around. Rick Grimes would think of her whatever he damn pleased, it hardly mattered to her, as long as he kept his hands to himself, and he could shove his benefit of doubt up into his ass! She was what she was, and if he waited for an apology for it, he should wait a while longer, because she was never going to apologize for being who she was, never. If anyone should have been apologizing, it had to be him! She was the one who almost got strangled. Okay, she must've been not as clean as a whistle as he had said, but… She wondered if he really would've done it, would have gone through it, even though she knew it was wrong to think it like this-she just couldn't believe it—couldn't believe him going through it…she felt they had…something.

She shook her head, crushing down the thought as quickly as it appeared. They got _nothing_. Beth had sat on the ground a few feet away from her, looking distraught, and the sight twisted something inside her, she couldn't help herself. Amanda really wanted to ignore her, she really did, but her damn conscience just wasn't letting her. She at least had an excuse, _not_ like some assholes she knew. Besides, it didn't look like they got anywhere else to go, either, better or worse they were stuck together. She'd thought she could have left but Rick had made her see that it wasn't a good idea just with a few words. She'd thought then she'd just ignore them here, but she'd been wrong again. Nowhere was safe, and it was still better than being alone out there.

It kinda sucked, but the world sucked that way—even before the apocalypse anyways. _Her_ world hadn't changed all that much on that regard.

She picked up a piece of broken bottle and sniffed at it, picking up the familiar scent right away. She scowled, and turned to Rick. She raised and started walking to him. With a glance at her, Michonne started walking away, leaving him alone beside a wall of mutilated legs and other broken body parts.

Sick, it was really sick. What kind of people would really do that? She handed him the broken bottle. "Molotov cocktails," she said, "This—" she gestured with her hand, "—isn't walkers."

Rick nodded. "I know." He pointed at the wall she'd read the script, too, "Wolves."

She looked around again, shaking her head. "I don't understand," she said then, "Why anyone would do this… like we don't have enough already. It's sick."

Rick gave her a look. "The world is full with sick people now."

"I know," she said back, "It just don't…make sense."

Wordlessly, Rick nodded, but didn't say anything. There wasn't anything to say. It didn't make sense, but that was the way of the things, as well. It wasn't supposed to make sense. Not anymore, at least, but she also didn't know if it ever did. "Michonne's right," Amanda then said, and Rick snapped his eyes at her, as if he was surprised, and Amanda could understand because she was surprised herself too, hearing the words from her own lips, "But we need something to go on. We can't wander around aimlessly, hoping to come up with a place."

Rick looked at her searchingly. "_We_?" he asked, his eyes keen and looking beyond.

_There is no us, we go together, then we're done…_ Letting out a sigh, she looked around the horrid scene around her… Well… "You _were_ right," she said, stressing the word, biting off, "I haven't even seen the half of it yet, and I don't want to see the rest…alone…" _Without you,_ almost left her mouth, but she managed to keep it inside, instead went with, "Still hating you, though."

He shook his head, and gave her a bit smile, a knowing one, then said, "I _know_."

Good lord! "Talk to Beth, okay?" Rick said then but before she could even open her mouth and say something back, he continued, "She isn't well." Amanda frowned. This thing was between her and Beth, and she dealt with it on her own time, on her own terms. She'd already sort of forgiven Beth, too, but she wasn't going to have it shoved down through her throat, especially by Rick Grimes, not just after she'd accepted that she needed him to make it out. "If you want to be a part of this, you need to be a part of it, of _us_," Rick went on, "She needs you, Amanda. She's your _friend_."

She huffed, snorting through her nose. They were all fucking friends here, in the lands of milk and honey, over the end of the rainbow. "Amanda—" Rick called her, his voice hitched a tone sterner, the voice she started _hating_ too, because each time she somehow found herself listening to it…

"Okay…okay… I'll do—get off—" she started telling him to get off her back, too, but couldn't finish because a scream tore in the air.

* * *

_A/N: Little Beth, and almost no Daryl at all, I know, but I wanted to put things in order between Rick and Amanda before I delve into Beth and Daryl, pulling them back on the track, too. Rick's POV was definitely the hardest one I've ever tried... I hope I've done him justice._


	21. Chapter 21

_A/N: This chapter just couldn't finish, and I couldn't divide it...so it's turned out a monster of words._

_The poem at the beginning is the Hollow Men, of T.S. Elliot. One of my favorites._

XXI.

Alone, Beth searched through the first house she'd found in the community after Amanda had left her. Beth stayed behind, looking around trying to imagine the people who used to live in this house, trying to imagine how kind of people they had been, what kind of lives they had before the turn. Looking around the over-furnished but comfy interior she decided people here had been middle class American family, as she'd guessed from Noah's behavior, enjoying a life of an eccentric mix of modern and old all together, a broken LED TV on the walls as a blood covered typewrite sat on the table, it was not like a rundown cabin in the woods.

The thought came at her so sudden she couldn't realize it first, then grudgingly pressed it down. She wasn't going to think of rundown cabins. The house, though, now was only a mess, a disarray clutter of broken furniture, rotting dead bodies, mutilated body parts, everything covered with dust and blood. It was funny how everything still got covered with dust even at the end of the world. At the far corner there were broken shelves of the library on the floor and she went there to inspect it. Her eyes caught a book on the floor, a book littered with blood and dust like the house itself, its bound broken, loosely falling apart…but it was the title of the book that had captivated her interest.

Through the dust and blood, she read…The Hollow Men. She opened the book and saw it was a poem. She started reading it, dry pages withering between her fingertips.

_We are the hollow men, we are the stuffed men, leaning together, Headpiece filled with straw… _she read the first stanza, the words striking a deep chord in her as her eyes prickling. The poem had written like a century or so ago but somehow still fit. Beth kept reading, and came to the end of stanzas… _This is the way the world ends_… _this is the way the world ends… __Not with a bang but a whimper._

This was the way the world ended… not with a bang but a whimper…

It really did suit her, though. Her world had ended while she slept. She'd gone to bed one night and when she'd woken up the next day, everything had changed. Perhaps for people like Amanda or Rick it'd ended with a bang, the napalm bombs and mayhem, and gunshots, but for her it'd been only a whimper, a soft shift in the darkness, something she hadn't even realized fully until they'd come to the farm, opened the barn's door and showed them the hard, cold face of the reality.

She wondered what kind of a mind would write such a poem, what kind of anguish and despair, and feeling of lost would make someone to put it in such a poetic way, rhymes falling like a waterfall of words, like unanswered prayer… _For thine is the kingdom, For thine is, Life is… For thine is the…_

Pain… she concluded, even though the poem didn't. She closed the book and stuffed it inside her backpack. She went through a little cabinet too and found an unopened bottles of scotches, and on a sudden whim, she put it inside the bag too.

She'd never drunk anything since her first time, and suddenly she found herself wishing for that state of lethargic happiness, the haziness of calm silence. That feeling was dangerous on the road, she knew, but maybe…maybe she could try it later… just a little bit. Michonne found her just after she'd place the bottle deep inside her bag, her katana in her hands, her face carefully scanning the house.

"Found anything?" she asked, giving Beth a look.

Beth shook her head. She hadn't found anything would be useful to Michonne. She wondered why she'd come to look for her, the older woman was having a talk with Rick when Beth had left them to look for the houses for a quick sweep; an agitated, frustrated talk. It'd been a while since Beth saw her like this, too, and it reminded her the times when she'd first come to the prison, like a wary wounded wild animal, distrust and suspect emitting off of her every pore, trusting no one. For a moment or so, she thought how far away Michonne had come from that woman now, how relaxed and protective she'd turned, breaking over her own depression, and Beth thought maybe it was still possible to find a balance, to break over that numbness inside her… She'd told Amanda that Michonne had had to deal with the same struggles too, so perhaps they were still hope; in the prison Michonne had managed to turn into her real self again more or less in time, the cloth she was made of. Beth knew she'd been looking for the Governor, but eventually the search had stopped.

And the Governor had found them.

_Perhaps_ Daryl had been right. If they had—if they hadn't stopped looking for the Governor, maybe they wouldn't have needed to be here now. No, instead they'd chose to move on, chose to live like normal people supposed to do, forgetting about the monsters out there and this was how it turned out for them at the end.

She didn't know. Perhaps then even Daryl was right not wanting to take things further with her, even Michonne and Rick weren't on it, like Amanda had said, they _were_ all friends. Maybe it was really the best option. They were trying to survive here, and emotions were complicating things. She frowned a little. But they'd tried that too, they had tried to be friends, and it hadn't worked for them. What was working for Michonne and Rick wasn't working for them, and she didn't know about that, either. She didn't know a thing about this world ending with a whimper, except that the monsters were out there, always, waiting to eat you up whole, waiting to devour you, and it wasn't only the walkers, either. No, walkers even weren't that bad.

_Wolves not far…_ she recalled the scripts she had read over the walls, and looked around the mutilated bodies piled on each other, and wished she could have found them—she could find those sick son of bitches who had done this, who had killed Noah's family… and did them very bad things.

A scream erupted in the silence of the house, cutting off her thoughts with malice… She shared a look with Michonne, recognizing whom it belonged. "Noah!" Beth cried out, "It's Noah."

They ran out of the house into the street, Beth taking out her knife as Michonne raised her katana at ready in her hands. Rick and Amanda were running from the other side of the community, as well, hearing the scream. "It came from the back porch," Rick stated while he ran, pointing at their left side where twin houses were sat at the edge of walls, closing on in tree line.

Noah was taken cover under a fallen door, protecting himself from six walkers trying to crawl at him. "Save the bullets," Rick barked at Amanda as she started pulling out her gun, taking out his knife. Amanda followed his example, so did Beth.

Her somber thoughts were completely gone as the adrenalin rush coursed through her, her blood signing in her veins, drumming in her ears. Much like pain, the anticipation of a fight was pushing back the numbness, too, the feel of being alive…staying alive… to stay that way, to live for another day to fight. She felt her whole body was tingling with the feeling as she grabbed a walker coming at her and stabbed her knife into her brain.

Rick was blowing another's brain in two with his machete, brutal and precise like always. Michonne was catlike with her long blade, sleek and deadly with finesse. Amanda was coarse even in fighting, technical like it was all a muscle memory, an automatic reflex that she'd honed with practice over the years.

For Beth, it was what it'd always been, a struggle—fighting with everything she got to make it. She pushed the snarling teeth with a hand pressed on the rotted flesh, pulling back herself in the meanwhile, and shifted aside on quick feet, a trick Amanda had showed them, and stabbed another walker on the side directly into the brain.

When they'd managed with all the dead, they ran to Noah. Rick pushed the door off of him, and pulled back the younger man on his feet with a steady arm holding his for support. Noah was still limping, having trouble standing on his feet. "What happened?" Rick asked, resting Noah's back on the door for support.

Over the unshed tears, Noah shook his head. "We got attacked—" He shook his head again, "Tyreese…He's got bitten. I'm—I'm sorry."

Rick's face got hardened, even further, and he motioned at Beth with his head, "Stay with him," before he started walking in the house. Michonne and Amanda started following him.

"No, I'm coming," Beth objected. She didn't want to stay back, Noah could take care of himself, they were no walkers in the sight, and she had to see Tyreese. She got to.

Giving her a look over his shoulder, standing at the threshold, Rick looked like he was going to say something but the next moment, he stepped inside. Beth took his silence as confirmative, and followed him, too.

Quick but wary steps, they checked the house. They hadn't met with any of the dead, they were all put down, and they found Tyreese in one of the back rooms. And there he was, sat under a table, his arm bleeding, a big chunk of it bitten, and he was holding it as his blood was making a red pool around him.

So much blood… so red… He was almost out of conscious from pain and blood loss, she realized when she saw the glazed eyes, barely seeing them. There were two walker's unanimated bodies, one on the ground, the other over a swiveling chair. Beth understood that he'd fought them too with his bitten arm, reading the blood stains all over the place.

They ran to his side, Rick taking a hold of his arm to check the bite. Beth held his head, trying to hold his unfocused eyes on hers, remembering what she'd gone through in the elevator shaft. "Hey, Tyreese," she told the big man, "We're here, stay with us." But Tyreese was looking at the air behind her… She placed her hand on his cheek and turned the man to look at her, "Look at me."

Daryl had save her down there at the pit of dead bodies, he'd hold her—he'd made her look at his eyes, he had made her talk to him… she was going to do the same, she was not going to let Tyreese die now, not here.. not in this shithole full with rotten bloodies and wolves… she was not. "We're here," she told Tyrese again, her voice not wavering, decisive, "We got you."

"We have to cut it off," Rick roughed out agitated, and twisting aside barked at Michonne, still holding Tyreese's arm, "Michonne!" He pulled up on his feet, stretching the arm, "Hold on, Tyreese, hold on. We got this," Rick told the man the same, before turning toward them, "Amanda! Beth!" he cried at them, "Hold him tight. Don't let him move. Michonne."

There was only a moment of hesitance over Amanda's features, a dread she seldom let show off, then she shut it off, and moved closer to Tyreese quickly. Beth was already there, holding him. Michonne raised her blade as Amanda took a tight hold at his shoulders, a forceful bear hug. "It's okay… it's okay…" she whispered at Tyreese, in her mind the snapshots flashed… Michonne's blade fell on her father's throat, countless times, as Dr. Edwards cut off Joan's arms—

"It's gonna be okay," she whispered to the man again, remembering her mother… remembering her father… remembering Luke… remembering Zach… remembering Joan… remembering Tyreese telling Noah everything was going to be okay…

And the blade fell…

And there were screams in the air as she fought to keep the heavy body trashing with pain unmoving, Amanda trying to hold her own grip at the other side, too, Rick pulling back to the arm at the opposite…

And she had been wrong, it hadn't finished yet, the world was still ending, it was still ending everyday anew, not with a whimper, but always with screams.

# # #

"Hold tight—" Rick shifted the dead weight of Tyreese's body toward Noah at the other side to bring his free arm with the radio up as they started going out of the room and called in. "Daryl?" he rasped out, "We got a situation. Where are you?" he asked.

Beth lifted her head towards the windows. There was no sun in the sky to hazard a guess, but she fathomed it'd been more than an hour since the last time they'd checked out. "We're on the road, coming," Daryl's gruff voice came through the radio, "What happened?"

"Tyreese," Rick explained quickly, as quick as his feet, "He's got bitten. We cut off his arm."

"We're coming," Daryl only said, cutting off the connection.

"We need to cauterize the wound," Amanda said from Rick's side, "_Now_. He hasn't gotten much time left."

Three walkers were coming towards them. Michonne put two of them in a single shot, a long arc sweeping though the air, and taking a step toward her, Beth took out the last one.

There were whimpers on Tyreese's lips, unrecognizable as if he was talking to someone who wasn't there… Beth returned to his side, and looked at his eyes, holding them firmly, as they walked through the house, "Look at me. We're here, we're doing this. Stay with _us_."

"They—they say it's better now," Tyreese mumbled out, his eyes for a second losing the haze and becoming opaque.

Beth shook her head, understanding what _that_ meant. She tightened the knot they'd made over his upper arm for a tourniquet. "Don't listen to them," she told him firmly, "Listen to _me_. Stay with me."

He couldn't die. He couldn't die… she couldn't loose anyone anymore. They'd already lost too much.

"It's wildness out there, Rick, how we will cauterize his arm?" Amanda asked, taking a step closer to Rick, "One of the houses must still have a working stove, we could use it."

"This place is full of walkers—" Rick said in return, pointing at the windows. The walkers were approaching toward the house. Beth counted more than eight at first glance. They were making so much noise, and the screams of Tyreese had brought the dead's attention to the house.

"She's got a point," Michonne said, "Tyrese can't make it on the road."

"Okay." Rick agreed stiffly, and mentioned at Noah, "Where's the kitchen?"

The kitchen was at the back of the house, cornered by the wall at both sides. Amanda stepped out of Rick's side as he ran in the kitchen to try the stove, and fell on the line next to Michonne just outside the door. "This's a dead-end," she bit, looking at the corridor, "If we got crowded, we're trapped here."

Amanda was right, but it didn't matter. They were going to save Tyreese, no matter what. Michonne shot at her a glance, "It was your idea."

Amanda shrugged, "Yeah…" as Rick barked out inside from the kitchen, "It's _not_ working."

Beth let out a soft groan as Rick walked out from the kitchen. "Wait here—" she told them then, "I go with Amanda and try to find one still functional. Then you bring Tyreese."

Rick shook his head. "No. You stay. I go." Rick motioned at Amanda, "Come."

Amanda nodded, started following him, but before they could make a few steps from them—the walkers started pouring inside. Rick ran to barricade the open doors as much as stuff as they could find around the house— but it wasn't working, a small herd were crowding them.

"Take formation," Rick ordered, "Flank me, they can't pass us." Beth looked at the upcoming limping walkers and she knew Rick was just trying boost up their morale.

They held the formation more than three minutes, but at the end it got broken as a new wave of walkers added to the already growing numbers inside the house. A walker passed behind Amanda and almost bit her in the neck just before Beth nailed the dead with her knife.

Even with no time for a thank you, Amanda shifted aside to kill the one at her other side. If there wasn't a limping Noah and barely conscious Tyreese with them, they would have made a run for it, and they could even make out, covering each other's back in a tight formation, but with Noah and Tyreese's current conditions it wasn't possible.

For a second, Beth wondered if Amanda would mention it, because ever the realistic one, Beth knew she _was_ thinking of it, but she kept her mouth shut, her eyes hardened but determined. She wasn't going to abandon them.

It…felt good, knowing that Beth wasn't wrong about her, even after what had happened between them, but her good feeling was short-lived as the formation broke further as another three walker passed through them. Rick and Amanda finally took out their guns and started shooting the upcoming invaders as Michonne swept her blade—

But they were too much, just too much, and the floor beneath them was filling with dead bodies of the fallen walkers, a scene reminding her of the bottom of the elevator shaft.

Funny, it was kind of funny if her life ended up like this… maybe… it was her destiny…

Her feet stumbled on a foot of one of the bodies down there and she started falling… Amanda tried to take a grab of her, but another walker attacked at the older woman at the same moment—her hands turning towards it.

Down from where she sprawled out over the dead body, Beth looked up at the snarling walker coming at her—holding on her knife tighter and made a move to stand up.

She was not going down, not yet, realizing despite everything, she _still_ wanted to live.

A bitter, sardonic smile broke out over her lips, she _always_ understood how much she wanted to live just when she was about to die.

She started rising, but before she pulled back up on her feet, a bolt wheezed in the air, and hit at the brain of the walking dead in front of her, a green bolt she could recognize from everywhere, and the dead falling beneath her feet, she looked at up at the door, to see a Daryl Dixon standing at the threshold, his crossbow raised up on his shoulder, his eyes heated.

It was one of the best sights Beth had ever witnessed.

# # #

They'd taken the refuge out in the forest a mile away from the Shirewilt Estate, a clearing Daryl had found, screening the perimeters first before they'd settled a sort of a camp. It wasn't much—before leaving they could have only made one supply run, but as of the moment, it was going to have to be fine.

Daryl had gone to hunting. Outside the house, Beth had thanked him quickly for saving her, and he'd half nodded, half nodded with that noncommittal gruff, but they hadn't talked further. His eyes had followed her through the day, though, quick little glances as if to make sure she was okay, but Beth had decided to ignore them. Not out of spitefulness or anything, but he was dealing with it on his own way, Beth wasn't trivial, not like she'd thought, and he'd cared for her more in the ways more than he was supposed to, as of the moment it felt…enough.

It felt…good.

They were going to be okay. They had to.

She looked at Sasha, who sat at Tyreese's other side on the ground. The older woman looked like she was at the edge of a cliff, too, barely standing—not falling off. She passed his hand through Tyreese's forehead. "It's okay,_" _she told the man softly, but firmly. Sasha looked at her wordlessly, Beth continued, "We're going to be okay. You gotta know that."

She lifted her head up, and her eyes met with Daryl's as he returned from the hunt, his hands holding a string of squirrels over his shoulder, heavy eyes looking at her.

She looked at him for half of a second, and gave him the smallest of a smile, tired but calm before she turned her head away to look ahead at the forest.

She felt like she'd made a wish, and started counting from infinity.

She stood up from Tyreese's side and started walking out a bit away from the camp. It was still in the sight, so she supposed it was still safe. She'd seen a bush of berries and Carol and Amanda had been picking them up earlier. They hadn't eaten anything since yesterday night—aside a few crackers Carl had given to her, and the day was finishing, the last daylight was slowly fading under the darkening sky.

She started picking the berries into a cloth, vaguely aware that she'd wrapped Darlys' over her forearm. A myriad of emotions came at her remembering what she'd done—and she touched at her forearm, and wincing with the contact, embarrassed and…confused. Embarrassed because it felt to her so broken…and she had done—had hurt herself knowingly, and confused that even now…even embarrassed a part of her still wanted to take her scissor and cut another slash on her skin, waiting the pain hit her, dulling everything else, her blood signing with it, feeling alive.

She felt crying—her eyes were hurting, pricking inside her eyeballs, but no tears fell. She saw a piece of redness was sticking out of her sleeve as she picked up berries, showing off the red piece, and she pushed her cardigan down further over her wrist quickly, agitated so no one would see it.

Amanda found her at the bush a minute later, and started picking up berries as well. She didn't talk though, only took berries inside another cloth she'd had found. She looked calmer, too, somber. "Today… in the kitchen, did you think of leaving Tyreese?" Beth asked then, looking ahead.

"_Of course,_" Amanda answered without hesitation, "Like each of you," she continued, "If Daryl and the rest of group hadn't come, we were doomed there. Without Tyreese, we could have a chance, and how much of a chance he had anyways?"

Beth frowned a little, "He's still breathing," she reminded her firmly. He was going to be okay, she told herself determinately.

"For now," Amanda said, her voice as plain as ever, "He's still not out of the woods, Beth."

"Then why you didn't?"

Amanda let out a sigh. "I—the world I knew was always sick, Beth, I'm a cop, I know a few things about human depravity, but it's become even sicker. I can't be alone. I don't want to. I want to stay…be a part of this, I can't do this alone. The girls are still my responsibility. I gotta protect them, too. Can't do it alone, either," she slowly said, "And Rick told me if I want to be a part of this, I _need_ to be a part of this, a part of you." The older woman looked at her, "So…here I am…trying…you know..._different_, being a part of _something_…" She snorted, "Friends."

Beth smiled, again tired and calm. It was a harsh world, and no one could do it alone. They needed to be a part of something. Otherwise, they were just…drifting away. They all needed each other. Because a time would come, maybe this moment, and it'd have been Amanda who needed them to haul her ass back to safety while trying to stay alive. "Amanda-" she said then, "About what I did—"

"It's okay, I got it. You were hurt, and I was an easy target."

Beth frowned at the way she brushed it off. "I—it isn't that easy—"

"It's what it's," Amanda said, shrugging with indifference, "We don't have the luxury of stay mad forever over stuff like this. Rick tried to choke just two days ago, and I want to be in his circle now. We gotta make peace, and move on." She pursed her lips, "You _can_ stay still mad, if you want, a bit. I'm still not over it myself either, not _that_ much. But we _are_ talking."

Beth gave her a look, ignoring what the last words meant. "What's happening between you two?" Because _obviously_ something was happening, Beth only wasn't sure what.

Amanda let out a sigh. "Frankly, I haven't got any slightest idea." She paused, "Sometimes... He just makes me…so angry…being _always_ right." She pause again, a look entering into her eyes, and _smiled_, "Either I'll kick his ass someday or I'll fuck him senseless. I don't know. I haven't decided yet."

Beth stared at her open mouthed. Amanda laughed out. "Beth, I _can't_ be Rick's friend." She shook her head, popping a berry into her mouth, "That's not me." Beth opened her mouth, "And you're gonna talk to Maggie."

She closed her mouth, her lips pressing into a thin line. "No."

"_Yes_," Amanda said in returned firmly, "Likewise my belief in humankind, my forgiveness doesn't come free. There is _always_ a price, and you owe me one." She gave her a look, "I want this. You're gonna talk to her, hear what she will say, will her excuses, her justifications, like I did yours, then you will decide on what kind of relationship you still want to have with her. _But_ this whole 'you're death to me' business ends _now_."

Beth glared at her. "Fine, I'll do it. I'll _just_ listen."

She nodded, "You do that. It's your decision what to do next. But remember, we don' have the luxury of staying mad at each other forever," she repeated.

Beth smiled at her after that. "Deep inside, you've really got a soft heart, Amanda."

She snorted, "You tell me!" She shook her head, letting out a sigh, "I'm half convinced that instead of trying for Washington we should go and find those sick bastards who did that first—" she mumbled out, "Make them pay."

Her smile turned to a slight frown. "Do you know where they're?"

"Somewhere in the forest… They have to be somewhere out here… they were like wild animals, butchering. Don't have guns. Guns…are sophisticated, you know…civilized. These people aren't. I can't explain, Beth. It's a hunch, and I'm a cop. I don't know, but they're out in the woods. I _just_ know it."

Beth's frown became tighter, remembering the Governor. "Then it's not a should, Amanda," she said, "We _must_ find them."

# # #

Daryl watched Beth as she walked away from Tyreese's side and went to pick up berries as he sat down straddling a tree trunk to clean the squirrels for the dinner.

She was going to be death of him, but this time Daryl got nobody but himself to blame. Though, he was both right and wrong at the same time. He'd thought a trip outside would have gone smooth for once, and he was wrong, it of course hadn't; they had almost lost Tyreese, but he'd been right, there was a light in her eyes again, faint as it was but it was there…the light she'd been missing since the time they had spoken, then she smiled at him, again faint, barely there, a little twitch of lips, but he felt something as heavy as mountain and as big as oceans had lifted off of him seeing it.

_We're going to be okay… _

_We're going to be okay, you gotta know that,_ he recalled her words to Tyreese, her voice full with her conviction. They were going to be okay. He gutted the first squirrel, containing a sigh inside. Daryl wanted to believe that, because he didn't know what else he would do if he didn't, what he would have done if he saw her like a walking dead just one day more, knowing that he was exactly the reason.

Tyreese was getting better, too, his arm sealed off and wrapped, lying down in the ground. Sasha was next to him with Beth, nursing him back to health, holding his hand, talking softly to him, telling him it was going to be okay. Beth had never left the man's side for a moment after they'd cauterized the wound and ran off the freak show of the town with the cars, told him to listen to her, told him that they were all going to be okay.

Daryl looked at around, at his people. They were alive, but barely keeping up, even Amanda looked simmered down after what had happened at Noah's home town, her brash, challenging exterior left itself to a sullenness he'd only seen her with after what happened between her and Rick.

The horrors of being out here were catching up with her too, like each of them. His eyes returned to Beth again from the squirrel, he couldn't help himself and saw her as she touched at forearm and even from afar he could tell there was a pinched expression over her face, as if she was hurt.

A dread gripped at him, making his heart beat faster. No one had told him anything, if she got a wound or something in the fight, but he didn't like that expression over her face. He'd passed a whole night watching her face for every little expression while in the clinic, so he knew she was hurt. Then he saw it, a redness under his cardigan, slightly visible off from sleeve, and he recognized it. It was his piece of cloth, the cloth that he'd left with her. She'd wrapped it over her wrist. Then she pulled her cardigan over her wrist in such a flustered manner, he almost got up and went to ask her what was wrong.

Because he just knew… something was wrong.

He dropped the knife on the trunk, made a move—but then stopped. He couldn't. He just couldn't go and check her _just_ because he saw something under her cardigan. It was insane. He had to keep off his distance, gave her the space need to work it out. She had just began to get better, a talk with him would just reverse all things back. He had no rights. He had no rights whatsoever to check on her.

He gutted the second squirrel so brutally, Carol shot at her a look, which he ignored, continuing his work. That bitterness was seizing inside him, turning to anger—he _was_ still the one who had come to her help when everyone had written her off as dead. He _still_ got rights. He needed to know she was okay, she wasn't hurt, she wasn't…bitten.

Yet, his feet stayed planted where he was, his hands keeping with gutting the squirrels. She couldn't be bitten, that much he knew at least. Beth would never try to hide something like this from them. She possibly got a wound or something in the town but trying people not to fuss over it. She was okay.

She had to be.

In the evening, Rick walked to him, holding a bottle of water after he finished a half of squirrel. Daryl shook his head. He'd an inkling of they would need it more for later. He'd been out hunting there for two hours but couldn't see any creek or anything the whole time. The weather was unparticularly dry for the season, too; the only rain in a three weeks that had been that time after the church got overrun. It seemed global warming hadn't still stopped even at the end of the world.

"About going to Washington," Rick said, taking back the bottle, and asked, "What do you think?"

Daryl shrugged. "We gotta go somewhere," Daryl answered, "We can't stay in the woods in the winter. Shit's getting' worse."

And he wasn't only talking about the weather. The first winter had been like hell, but Daryl knew they could never make it out like that again, not in the ways things had become. The world out there belonged to the dead now, not to them, with each death tolls were getting higher, and became harder and runs were getting less fruitless, so was hunting. With each run, they came back with foods less than the before, and with each his hunting trips he saw more animal falling victim to the dead. They needed a place to hole up and started rising some grains again.

Solemnly, Rick nodded. "What's it?" Daryl asked then, because there was something with Rick's look that telling him that there was something _else_, something he couldn't decide.

Rick breathed out gruffly. "Amanda says wandering around hoping to come up with a place wouldn't do any good to us," Rick explained, "She's got a point. The cars almost run out of the gas. If we don't find any vehicles on the road, it means we're walking. It'd take almost two weeks to get Washington on feet, and we don't know a thing about how things are there."

Daryl thought about what he'd said, and admitted, "Yeah… But what else we got to do?"

That was the bottom line as well. "The wolves…" Rick then said, gesturing at his behind, at the direction of the town, "They gotta be somewhere around here, somewhere in the woods. The bodies—they got no gunshots. They were only butchered. They mustn't have guns. If we find them, we can kill them. We can take their supplies. Perhaps we can even pass the winter at their camp, too," Rick laid out the plan and he began to see the reason, too, but… it was still too risky, even for Amanda Shepherd's standards, then Rick said, "They really want to find them, I think, not only because of supplies, either."

Daryl gave the man a hard look, but he knew the answer even before he asked, "They?"

Rick nodded, "Yeah. Beth wants it, too."

# # #

At night, Beth and Shepherd stood in the middle of the circle they'd formed, lying their case to a highly unconvinced audience.

"Look—" Beth said, traveling her eyes at them, "I know how it sounds…"

"Monkey nuts insane-?" Abraham asked, cutting her off.

"The technical term, I believe, is preemptive," Shepherd shot back coolly.

"Do you really want us to look for them?" Glenn asked with disbelief.

"The last time we let Governor go, we didn't look for him, and he came back and took us our home. He killed us," Beth answered, trying to stay firm, but her voice wavered at the last part. She paused before she continued, letting a small breath, "What if we find a place on the road, we settle down and those wolves come up on us in a sudden attack?"

"We protect ourselves _when_ they did," Rick said in return, his voice curt with the mention of that sonofabitch, emphasis clear on the "when".

"Like we did with the Governor?" Beth bit off the words.

Rick's face hardened, Daryl grew tenser as the other man opened his mouth, but Shepherd, as if sensing the tense moment, moved in, "They butchered them down like animals, Rick," she said, looking at him directly in the eyes, "You saw it, _too_." With the corner of his eyes, Daryl saw Beth's hand crept over her forearm, and she gave a little push on her skin, and there he was…a slight wince across her brows, he _saw_ it. Danger bells started ringing in his mind, clear and alerting, something was definitely wrong with her, "You _all_ saw it. And we can stop it. They don't have guns, we _do_," she went on, moving the case on a more logical, practical stand, "And if we strike preemptively, we'll have the element of surprise, too."

"How are we going to find them?" Rosita asked with the same practicality," Do we know their base?"

Amanda shot up a look at Daryl, "We got a tracker. We can track their trials in the woods."

"But how _do_ you know they're in the woods?"

Shepherd shook her head frustrated, looking at Rick, almost imploring at him to back her with her eyes. Because she knew at the end they were all going to do what he said… "She's got a hunch…" Rick said looking back at her, and Shepherd's imploring look turned into a glare.

"It's all the same," Rick said then standing up, and walked over to them, "We go to Washington, we go look for them… It's all the same. We got nothing, but only _hunches_ now. Atlanta was in deep shit. Maybe Washington is different, we don't know. Maybe we can find those sick bastards in the woods maybe not, we don't know. It's all a bet. But I brought you here, and I _will_ find us a home one way or another."

# # #

At the end, he decided to do both. Amanda thought it was the best deal she could get, and Rick had supported her in a way, too, so she guessed it was okay. Though, she could at least return the favor. She placed berries they'd picked with Beth in her palm and brought them to him. She knew he hadn't eaten anything in the evening, too, but gave his own ration from the squirrels to her girls, in two days Whitney had lost more than four pounds, she looked like someone had stringed her, and she had been already too thin, withering, and Amanda really couldn't decide what to do Rick Grimes when he acted like this. It could've been so much easier if she just…hated him.

He'd taken the first night watch outside their perimeters, a few meters away from the camp. She walked to him as Rick watched her approaching him wary eyes.

She stood in front of him, and opened her palm to show him the berries, "I came bearing gifts."

Rick lifted his head up at her, and gave her a look together with a faint smile, "So did the Greeks."

She gave a half eye roll at that, "So do I—" she said back. He raised his hand and opened his palm. She poured the berries in, and sat beside him at the dirt.

"You backed me up there, thank you," she said, trying to be as simple as possible, even though words came to her strange. She barely thanked anyone, not only because she didn't like it—being grateful meant that you owed that person, and someday they could ask a refund on that, but also because she didn't get many occasion she needed to thank anyone for anything.

Rick nodded, and took a berry and popped into his mouth, "You had a point."

She shrugged, she usually did. "I talked to Beth, too," she went on, "She'll talk with Maggie."

That surprised him, "She will?" he asked.

"Yeah, I told her just to listen to Maggie's side of the story then she can decide whatever she wants to do."

"How?" Rick asked.

"Well, basically I guilt-tripped her," she answered. "She threw me off out in front you, and I forgave her." She smiled, "She owed me one. She needs to make her peace with what happened with her sister, and move on." She paused, and flashed the smile she knew he _hated_, "We don't have the luxury of keeping grudges forever anymore, you know." She sighed, and stole a berry from his palm and threw it in her mouth. "I wasn't smiling at _you_, Rick…" she said, then, "I was smiling at the irony."

"I know you don't trust easily, Amanda," Rick said, "and I—I hurt your trust." His eyes found her throat, where the marks of his fingers were still visible, even though they'd started fading, "I shouldn't have done it."

"It's okay," she brushed off his unsaid apology, and _smiled_, adding a daring edge in it, because in times like these she really couldn't decide… but she could always test the waters a bit further…"You're not the first man who did it." And she watched him as he tried to turn the statement over his mind, trying to read between the lines, she twisted up her lips further, helping him to get what she had _meant_, and stole another berry from him, "I even asked for it." She popped the berry into her mouth, staring at him.

His face closed off, and she smiled even further, and laughed, standing up, "I'm neither Beth nor Michonne, Rick," she told him as placid as ever.

He lifted his eyes up at her, "What are you then?" he asked low in his throat, and she sensed a challenge in the rasping words, and his darkened eyes passed a surge through her, and right then right in that moment Amanda _really_ wanted him to grab her at the throat again—and fuck her senseless.

She looked at him, as he looked back at her in challenge and he was waiting, she knew, he waiting to see what she would do… what she would dare… And she couldn't seem do anything but stare at him, her legs planted where she stood, feeling torn, an arousal twisting, pulsing in her core, her mouth dry.

He stood up, throwing off the berries in his hand and walked in on her, "Well?" he asked, demanding an answer. Her heart galloped in chest and involuntarily she took a step back, but got cornered, her back hitting the tree behind her, and she couldn't understand why she was backing down. "Don't start something you can't finish, Amanda," he told her, his eyes heavy on her lips, and he leaned on in her further, his lips almost brushing over hers, "And _stop_ testing me," he whispered at her in a hiss before his mouth covered hers, and he bit her.

She yelped, and trembled—and held on him as his teeth sunk into her lips. It only lasted for two seconds then he pulled back, a faint redness over his lips. A thin line of blood followed through the corner of her mouth. "You _bit_ me," she whispered out, almost in shock.

"I'm sure I'm not the first man who did it, either," he shot back and sat down again at the ground, ignoring her.

She glared at him as he kept looking ahead the woods, her arousal throbbing in her core. And really, she _still_ couldn't decide if she should kick his ass or beg him to…bite her again.

At the end, she settled with storming off away.

# # #

As Amanda walked toward the perimeters, berries in her hand, Beth stood up and went to find Maggie. That was the price, and Beth knew Amanda was right, they didn't have the luxury of being mad at each other forever. She didn't know how she could forgive Maggie, but if Amanda would forgive her throwing her off in front of Rick, then Beth would try too.

She also knew Maggie didn't mean to hurt her, not really, but she just couldn't forgive she didn't care—or perhaps she just cared Glenn more than her, and that was what was being in love?

She cared so much for Daryl, too, but it'd been between her and Daryl, she wouldn't have chosen, she would have tried to save both…

Her steps faltered… would have really? The answer scared her so deeply, her fingers found her arm again, pushing—waiting for the pain, then she pushed her hand back—as if the contact burned her.

She _needed_ to stop doing this. She really needed to.

She took a step back, looking around, but couldn't find Maggie. She found Glenn instead. She stopped in front of him. "Where is Maggie?" she asked.

Glenn gave her a searching look, "She—she's got the other watch," he answered, then called, "Beth…please… she—"

She shook her head. "It's okay, Glenn. I'm just gonna talk to her."

She turned and started walking toward outside the perimeters, but before she could have left the camp, suddenly Daryl was in front of her.

She halted on her steps, looking at him in shock, because he'd avoiding her whole day, watching her from away. His eyes were on her all day, and Beth had tried to ignore his look all day, too, and now he was looking at with heated eyes again, agitated…and mad…?

He walked to her, "Show me your left arm," he demanded in a rasp.

Her heart started beating madly. "What?" she whispered out.

"Show me your damn arm!" He tried to catch her left arm, but she pulled it back—hid it at her back.

He knew. She didn't know how, but Beth knew he knew. She took a step back, running away from him, but he grabbed her. He clawed at her back, reaching out to her arm.

Beth tried to push him off of her. "No, Daryl, stop," she fought him as he moved at her once again, "Let me go."

"Stop." Daryl bit at her too, and grabbed her forearm tightly. She winced at the contact, and cursed at herself as Daryl's expression grew sterner. She stopped fighting. "Don't, please," she only said.

Without listening to her, wordlessly, he yanked the cardigan over her elbow, revealing the red cloth, and started unwrapping it. She turned her head aside, because she didn't want to see what was going to happen the next, and looked ahead the dark forest, tears inside—her eyes pricking.

First she felt the cold night air at her skin—licking over slashed skin. Preparing herself, she turned and looked at him. She had nowhere to run now.

He dropped her arm, looking at her hard, his blue eyes darkened so much they looked like black. Then with a wordless grunt out of his depths, he twisted aside and hit at the tree beside her, hard.

Her eyes widened, she stared at him, as he kept hitting at the tree.

* * *

_A/N: So much stuff happened, right? Told you, I just didn't know how to divide it... Hope you didn't mind. _

_And, Tyreese lives, because I really wanted to show how Beth being alive could have changed things...if memory serves me right, there was a line saying if Beth was alive, maybe it wouldn't happen, domino effect, or something like that... can't remember it really, but that was my inspiration. I also don't want to repeat the canon events all the way, because it's a bit boring, and much harder to do. (Tried it with my other story, it's really harder)_

_So, the next Beth and Daryl will finally have a REAL talk! Thank god._

_Hope you're still staying with me. When no one reviewed the last chapter, I grew a bit worried, but we'll see. Either way, I'm still enjoying myself, so... hope you're too._


	22. Chapter 22

_A/N: I'm kinda very excited for this chapter, it's been a long journey._

* * *

XXII.

His knuckles tore apart open, he was leaving blood trails over the tree's trunk with his fists. The sight took Beth out of her stupor and she rushed at him bodily, grabbing his arm in the same way he'd done to her. "Stop!" she cried out, "What are you doing?"

It was all wrong. It was all wrong. He was never meant to find it out. How he'd realized, she couldn't even guess.

But the question got him even madder. He turned to her, and stepped into her personal space. "What I _am_ doin'?" he hissed at her face, "Are ya shittin' me, girl?" He grasped her arm and raised it at her face, her eyes falling over the slashes over her skin from the wrist to the elbow, "What the fuck are ya doin'?"

She yanked her arm free, and stepped back. She couldn't talk about this. It was just too much. Why the hell he couldn't just leave her alone. She couldn't do this, not with _him_. "It's nothing, forget about it."

"Forget about it?" he sneered, coming at her once again.

She covered her arm, pulling her cardigan down, and pushed her hair out of her face, shaking her head defiant. "Yeah, forget about it. It's nothing."

"You ain't left any unbroken skin over your damn arm, and you call it nothing?! Beth, are ya really fuckin' kiddin' me?"

Anger was finding her, singing in her blood, and it felt…good, very good… "It's _my_ damn arm," she barked out, seething, "and I can do whatever I damn please with it. Who the hell are _you_ thinking that you can get into my business, coming and going whenever you please?" He hadn't wanted her. He cared but not that much, so he didn't have the rights now, not anymore. "You've got no rights," and she told him just that, it felt very good, too.

And her words made him even angrier, and it also felt good. "I ain't got no rights?" he hissed out, walking in on her again, looking down at her as their noses just touched at each other. She stayed where she was, not backing down. She felt like a dam had broken inside, and all the bitterness and anger they'd been harboring for days started rushing out forward, and she didn't even stop to think that the flood would drown them. She didn't care. She couldn't stop, and he didn't look like, he could, either.

"_I_ ran after you for hours in the middle of the night," he roughed out, his breath hissing at her face, "I came to look for you in the damn city. I searched all your body for a tiny scratch while you thought I wasn't even there. I held you in my arms a whole damn night, keeping your _pulse _so I would know you ain't dead, girl." He shook his head, "_Don't_ fucking tell me now I ain't got no rights!"

There were unshed tears inside her eyes now, because she knew he'd done all those things, and it was the exact reason why it was this hard. "You did," she said, something inside her was twisting, her mouth was ashes, the truth tasted like ashes, "you had every right then, Daryl, but it's gone when you decided that you don't want this—_us_."

He grabbed her wrist again, and shoved her arm between them at her face. "And is this what you're doing? Cutting yourself up? Are ya fucking stupid?" His hand other hand yanked off her sleeve, showing off a part of angry slashes, "This—_this_ ain't gonna make it better."

She took a step back. "You don't understand. You never do." She shook her head, "You even thought I tried to kill myself for attention. You don't understand how I feel."

He barked at her a laugh and pulled out his shirt's sleeve over his forearm. There were scars over his arms too, but scars were always a part of him, too. Beth had even seen his back when he'd been shot bringing him to food. He never showed them, but Beth knew they were there.

"Ya think?" he asked rising his hand toward her. "You see the little burn at the back of my wrist?" he asked but continued without waiting her reply, "I was thirteen when I first burned myself with a cigarette," he told her, "Merle was just gone again, old man was getting worse… and it'd stopped even hurting when he belted me, just felt numb… I _do_ get it, Beth." He rolled down his shirt as Beth stared at him, the world a blur before her eyes… "But it ain't make it better. Even pain became…familiar, you got use to it at the end." He took a step closer to her, "You gotta stop this. Don't do this yourself, please."

She let out a shaking breath, "Daryl-" Her voice broke, her lips trembled, her eyes hurting, the world getting even more of a blur, and she finally felt wetness over her cheeks. "I don't want to," she murmured, bowing her head, "I want to stop. I don't know how. Everything—everything is so much. I keep telling myself it's gonna be okay—but—" she stopped, shaking her head, rising her palms over her face, couldn't even complete her sentence.

As she cried, she felt his arms wrapping her. "It's okay," he told her then slowly, "It's gonna be okay, Beth. We're gonna be okay, girl."

She didn't speak. She knew it was a lie, and she didn't care. She just stood in his arms, her face pressed at his chest, shaking with cries as he held her, caressing her hair. "I got you now," he roughed out into her ear, and one part of her wanted to believe him, wanted to believe the words, but the other part was telling her he was be gone came the morning, fleeing, but Beth couldn't even bring herself to listen to it anymore. She just wanted to cry—cry her heart out. She couldn't do this alone… no one could, even Amanda had seen that at the end. They needed each other, but she needed Daryl, she needed _him_ more than anyone in this suck-ass world, to make her believe.

"Daryl," she mumbled out, "Don't leave me, please." She begged, even not caring a bit.

She felt him shaking his head, "I ain't," he promised.

And Beth believed in him. She didn't know how long they stayed in that way, not moving an inch, just within each other's embrace, but she felt herself getting heavy, the strain and the toll of the last days weighing on her, and she slowly rested into his chest further, and she felt she was falling—slowly—but it was okay, he got her… they were falling together… On the ground, she closed her eyes, nesting against his chest as he wrapped her in a protective cocoon from behind, her head resting on his arm.

Then she slept.

When she came around the next, it was the sunlight slowly creeping through her lashes—she fluttered her eyes open against the breaking sun. The dawn had broken. She was cold with the morning chill but she was hot at the same time, still enfolded within his arms, secured, his smell—leather and forest in her nostrils. "D—Daryl?" she mumbled out, holding the arm across her belly, wrapping it around her tighter as she felt the leather vest across her, too.

Understanding her, Daryl pulled her against his back further, tightening his arms, "Shss- 'm here," he whispered into her ear, rough voice barely recognizable, "Go back to sleep."

"You stayed," she mumbled out, closing her eyes.

"I stayed," he said back, and promised, "I ain't goin' nowhere."

Closing her eyes with content, Beth went back to sleep.

# # #

When she woke up fully, it was a bit warmer, the frost of the morning had turned out, and she was hearing light footsteps around the camp, but they were still alone just outside of the perimeters. Daryl was still holding her tightly, but he was fully awake, too, she _sensed_, a semi-hardness pressed on her lower back. She didn't move, and he didn't move, either, and the wordless gesture made another surge of relief coursing through her. They were still good.

But she was still lying on his arm, and that must hurt like a bitch. He'd let her sleep on his arm whole night. She would need to make him stop these stupid things, too. She half twisted her head, and met with his already opened eyes, and realized that he'd been watching her sleep. Her stomach flip flopped, and she half smiled, running her eyes away, "Mornin'," she murmured.

He let out a noncommittal grunt which she'd taken as a good morning, as well, then tried to move away so he could free his arm but before she could move an inch, he clenched his arms, and pulled her back against him. "Nah…stay."

"Your arm—"

"'s 'kay," he rasped out.

She smiled further, but halted, concern coming to her, wondering if he wanted her to stay so they could talk about last night, about what she had done. She knew he was going to make her stop doing it, and she _was_ going to stop, she hadn't even wanted to do it before, but now… no, she'd seen how much it'd hurt Daryl seeing her like that, she could never do this to him, if nothing else. But she didn't want to talk about it, either. She was still…ashamed. But she couldn't run away, either, not from this, never. So she waited, but he didn't speak, just continued to hold her. She then realized he just wanted her to stay—a bit longer…to hold her.

Her chest swelling, she twisted around herself and faced with him. They were inches apart now, her head still on his arm, his vest falling over her loosely. She could feel his huff of breaths over her—and she wondered if he was going to kiss her—because right now it seemed to her a good time for a kiss, their first kiss. But he wasn't still moving—just watching her—then his other hand slowly crept over shoulder, and he started playing with her locks.

"You got nice hair," he mumbled out, looking at her.

"It's caked with dirt, blood, mud, Daryl—" Beth said in return, smiling.

He shrugged, "Still nice…"

She smiled more, and snugged on in him an inch further, and lifted her head up, "Daryl—" she whispered out, "Are you ever going to kiss me?"

He stared at her—his hand stopped playing with her hair, "I don't know—" he rasped out, and her hearth sunk a bit, "It's—The last time I tried to kiss you, you threw up on me," he told her, looking at her eyes, "I'm kinda worried."

Open-mouthed, Beth stared at him, wondering at what world she'd woken up. Because it couldn't be the world she'd been at last night, because in this one there wasn't a Daryl Dixon holding her in his arms even after the dawn, but there was a Daryl Dixon who was teasing her while doing it in the meantime.

Surely, she must've died in her sleep and gone to heaven, or perhaps she was in a dream. If it was a dream, she never wanted to wake up. "I don't know, Daryl," she said back in return, "My father said once every breath we take now is a risk. So…" she drawled out, "Will you take the risk?"

He smirked at her, and leaned in on her… "I'll try…" he murmured before pressing his lips on hers.

She _really_ must've been in heaven, she couldn't think anything else than that as his starched lips softly wandered over hers, his beard chafing at her skin, and it was a good feeling. A very good feeling. Sighing softly, she snugged at him even closer, resting herself completely against him like she'd dreamed so many times before, and opened her mouth to invite him in.

Much to her surprise, and her content, he didn't hesitate. He dived in. Their tongues clashed, and she hummed softly inside his mouth with pleasure, a warmness slowly spreading over her but her soft hum made him tenser. He stilled for a split of second just before he twisted his side, and grabbing her tighter, he hauled her up over at his chest and deepened the kiss.

Then it became something else entirely. It wasn't sweet anymore, it was demanding, and he was persistence and hungry, looking more with each stroke of tongue. His hand moved to the back of her neck, moving her head for a better angle, for a deeper connection, and Beth tried to return his hunger as much as she could, suddenly feeling torn because as a part of her was just asking for more—the other part started panicking again.

And it was stupid. She'd been just wanting him to scratching her inch so badly a few days ago. At the end, her own hunger won over her panic too, pleasure striking at every cord inside her, and she raised her own arms, and looped them over his neck tightly, and started grinding over him.

He hissed, an inch parting off of her—just over her lips, and looked at her with dark blue eyes. In response, she rubbed over him again.

She didn't need to do anything else. With a swift motion, he rolled them over and she was under him, and his hands started working over her body as Beth started unbuttoning his shirt. They were going to do it, she then realized. She was going to have sex with Daryl Dixon. Open in the woods, naked in the dirt…a thrill of anticipating surged through her—and she stretched out, then the virginity part came to her mind. She wasn't afraid; she was waiting for this, for a long, _long_ time, but still…

The panic started rising again, but she pushed it down. Goddammit, she wanted this. Very badly. If he just realized she was getting over her head—he would stop…and she didn't want him to stop—she let out a whimper, moaning as his mouth moved away over from her lips to the back of her ear as he nibbled the sensitive flesh behind there.

Nope… she definitely didn't want him to stop.

She quickened her hands, unbuttoning him—but before she could finish it, he went completely still.

His hand reached back toward his knife then Beth heard it…footsteps approaching.

Then they stopped too. Beth lifted her head, to see Amanda who just stood there watching them with a clouded expression. Beth frowned, shifting her shirt down and raised up. "Rick's looking for you," Amanda explained plainly, "We need to talk what we'll do."

Something was wrong with her, Beth noticed. The Amanda Shepherd she knew should've been flashing at them derisive smiles right now, smirking down at them knowingly. Instead, she was just acting like she'd caught them gutting some squirrels, not like they were about to have sex.

Standing up, Beth asked, "Are you okay?"

From her side, Beth saw Daryl pulling back on his feet, too, taking his vest from the ground. "There're leaves in your hair, Beth," Amanda said in return, without answering her back. Daryl ignored her as he put his vest on, buttoning himself up. Beth shot up a look at Amanda, saw that there was a hickey at the corner of her mouth, and something looked like…teeth marks. Amanda caught up her gaze, and they shared a look, but before Beth could go to her and asked what had happened, Amanda spun on her heels and started walking away.

Well, that was weird. Beth turned to Daryl, and let out a sigh. "What's her deal?" Daryl asked, closing the last button of his short.

Beth shrugged, "Probably got into another fight with Rick," she answered, scowling, remembering what the older woman had said yesterday, but judging by the sullen expression over Amanda's face, Beth wasn't sure what exactly had happened, there was one thing certain, Amanda had a mark at her lips. She wondered if she was ever going to have one of those marks on her, too, and she felt her blood rush again of the prospect—marked by Daryl—and seriously, they just needed to find a place they would be alone before she lost it.

Daryl gave her a look. "Howddya know?" he asked.

Beth smiled, walked to him, and wrapped her arms around his torso. "It's a girl thing," she said, "We _just_ do." She felt happy, and it felt weird too, because just last night she'd had a break down, but things had changed since then. She got now Daryl, who slept with her all night, who stayed even after the dawn, who caressed her hair softly, who teased her, who kissed her like that, who she had been just about to have sex, who understood her better than anyone in this world. She lifted her head up at him. "Daryl, how did you know?" she asked, not clarifying what she had meant.

Her gave her a loaded look, his eyes darkening, but proved once again she didn't need to, "Signs were all there, you gotta read 'em," he quoted.

"And you can?" Beth asked, lifting her eyebrow up, but she didn't really need an answer for that question.

"I can read everything about ya, girl."

# # #

If anyone noticed that they'd spent the night sleeping together, no one mentioned it. Beth was…glad. She didn't care what they thought of them, but she knew it was still a sore point for Daryl, so she was glad that they didn't have to deal them, at least for now. She didn't even know if anyone would care, either. It was a different world now. If things were different, if she'd been still an eighteen years old girl, securely wrapped in her daddy's home, the idea of being with someone like Daryl would have been hard to deal with. If it'd been one of her friends, Beth would have objected the idea, too, she'd always understood Daryl's reluctance, too, and like they both knew, it was the end of the world, and it didn't matter anymore.

She gave him a quick look, hoping he was feeling the same as she sat on the ground in the circle. His face was expressionless, not the man who had teasing, kissing her a few minutes ago, but turning into his usual blandness, as he watched every sign around him, without any word.

She wondered what he was thinking. He'd made up his mind, he'd stayed, but it was still hard to get Daryl Dixon to open up, and she vaguely wondered if he ever would have done it, would have broken his reservation if she hadn't turned out as broken as she ended up, cutting herself… the thought broke over the happy feelings inside her—and her hand almost found her left arm again, but she stopped it even before it moved. She shouldn't think such stuff. It was her depression speaking, not real, not healthy, either. They were together, they were at it. The reasons didn't matter, either. All things considered, she just wanted to be with him.

"Standard recon," Rick explained, standing in the middle of the circle, a stick in his hands, as he laid out the plan, "We send a team out first, they screen the road then we move like a searching party. Either way, it's the best not to move without knowing what lay ahead."

"If they don't return?" Carol asked.

"We wait a day, then go and look for them," Rick answered.

"The teams?" Maggie asked, and Beth remembered her. Last night she'd been looking for then things got carried away. She still needed to talk with Maggie. Well, even that didn't sound so bad to her now.

"Of two. Each day a group takes the search. Me, Daryl, Abraham, and Amanda," Rick counted, his eyes skipping at the owner of the last name, as Amanda quickly ran her eyes away from his glance.

Beth stared. Amanda Shepherd had _just_ run her eyes away. Something was definitely going on with her. "The rest will stay here," Rick continued, turning his eyes away from her, and Beth frowned.

She recognized Rick had chosen to go with people had experience with such stuff, recons and such, he even left Michonne out, Amanda and he were cops, Abraham was a soldier, and Daryl was…Daryl, but Beth didn't like it, didn't like the exclusion

"I want to come to me. It's my plan." Well, it was Amanda's plan more likely, but Amanda was going, and she was staying.

Rick gave her a look, but it was Daryl who spoke in his stead, shaking his head. "Nah. You stay."

She returned his look too, her eyes heating, because there was a hidden meaning beneath the words, and seriously it was just a night passed, and he was turning into a protective prick.

And they were all watching them, it was a common knowledge in the group that there was something going on between them, Beth knew, but no one had seen Daryl being open about it like this. Beth felt a hotness spreading over her, she liked that protectiveness, and she liked that openness, even though she didn't like it. It was hard to explain.

Though she shouldn't be surprised, she guessed. Everything concerning Daryl Dixon was hard to explain.

They talked about more about goings and trails, and they could leave, but decided that they should stay at least one or another day before Tyreese got better enough to stand up again. Daryl came to her side when the meeting was finished. "I'm goin' hunting," Daryl told her back, looking at her, "Will ya come?"

A redness crept over her cheeks, even though she knew he didn't mean it like this, but the idea just stuck in her, deep in the woods they wouldn't have been disturbed…or her mind was really in the gutter. But she shook her head, "I need to talk with Maggie," Beth said, "I was looking for her, you know, before you jumped at me."

Daryl gave her a wary look. "Ya gonna talk with her?"

She let out a sigh. "It's Amanda. She says I owe her one, and making me talk to Maggie. She says I can't stay mad at her forever."

Daryl gave her a half nod, "'kay," he said, "It's good."

Beth shrugged. "You be careful out there, okay?" she asked, looking at his eyes.

He gave her another half nod, "Uh huh," and she rose on her toes to peck him at the cheek, a quick brush of lips across his stub of bread. He stilled for a moment, and she could sense everyone was watching them with the corner of their eyes, and it felt like the air tensed in the silence, too, and it was too silent—too silent for a moment, she realized she was holding her breath too, waiting for him to see what he would.

Then adjusting his crossbow over his shoulder, he nodded at her again, then leaning down an inch, he pecked her at the lips back.

Then he was gone—and Beth smiled at his back, watching him vanishing in the woods.

It was going to be an interesting day.

# # #

"Well, wasn't that romantic?" Amanda asked behind her back as she stood still watching the woods. She turned out and looked at a half smiling Amanda, who looked like more like the Amanda she knew. "How did happen?" she asked then.

Beth shrugged, "We had a fight," she explained vaguely. She couldn't tell about her arm even to her.

"Hmm—" Amanda hummed, "Did you do it?"

Beth frowned, "No."

"Why?"

"I don't know," Beth snarled, "Maybe because a nosy woman just walked onto us."

Amanda snorted, "Well, it's not my fault you like it in public, Beth."

Beth sighed. "I'm starting to get why you hate the woods, really," she mumbled. Amanda made a noncommittal voice. Beth looked at her. "And _who_ did this?" she pointed at the other woman's lips, even though she _knew_ who it was. She wanted to hear the confirmation from Amanda.

Suddenly flushed, Amanda shook her head, "It's nothing."

"Nothing?" Beth asked, raising an eyebrow at her, "It doesn't look like nothing," she said, remember all the time she used to say the same word whenever Daryl had done something she didn't like, "In fact, it looks like a hickey—" she pointed at her lips again, and asked, "Was it Rick?"

Amanda shot at her a glare in response. It was Rick. But she really couldn't understand why Amanda was acting like this… like…like as if she was avoiding him now. During the whole meeting, she sat there demurely, and whenever Rick had shot at her a glance, and he'd done it more than once, she ran her eyes away, avoiding to meet with his look. "Did you-?" Beth then asked.

Amanda let out a breath, shaking her head, and accepted, "No."

Beth frowned, "Amanda, how did it happen?"

Amanda stared at her for a while, and said, "He bit me."

"He _bit_ you...?" Beth echoed the statement in a question, then looking at her dour expression, Beth started laughing.

Amanda pursed her lips down with a glare. "It's not funny."

"But it _is_," she shook her head back, "Oh my god, he _really_ bit you. What did you do? Another test? Is that why're avoiding him now?"

She flinched back as if Beth had hit her. "I'm not avoiding him," she said curtly.

"Oh you're," Beth said, and she really couldn't believe it, it was as if she'd really woken up another world, a world which Daryl Dixon was giving her goodbye kisses in public, a world which Amanda Shepherd was avoiding a man like a virgin. "What's really happening between you two, Amanda?" Beth asked then.

"_Nothing_—" Amanda seethed out, "Nothing's happening."

Beth gave her friend a smile after that. "Funny, you know, that was exactly what I kept telling whenever Daryl made me mad with his antics."

Seething out through her teeth again, Amanda turned and stormed off away.

It was definitely being an interesting day.

Turning to the other side, Beth started looking for Maggie.

* * *

_A/N: Oh, so, it's. Beth and Daryl is finally at it! This fight at the beginning was one of the reasons why I wanted to continue the story, too, hope you've enjoyed it._


	23. Chapter 23

XXIII.

It was the weirdest thing, a small thing, a little peck on the lips, barely there, but it was still the weirdest thing Daryl had ever done all in his life. As he walked away from the group into the woods, he felt a heat rising at the back of his neck, feeling Beth's eyes still staring at him, and everyone _else_.

He fucking hated it, but there was no other choice, either. He gotta man up, and owned it, so Daryl did it. He pecked Beth at the lips in front of everyone, small in gesture, big in meaning.

_We're at it, get over it. _

Though he still could _barely_ get over it himself, wrapped around his mind he'd spent the whole night holding Beth in his arms, would've had even sex with her in the morning if they hadn't been interrupted.

It'd happened so abrupt, so… fuck, he almost yelled, recalling the way she looked when he had found her, recalling his own fear as he'd seen her arm, slashed furiously up from her wrist to her elbow, and his _anger_… Fucking stupid Daryl Dixon, because he knew he was the reason… he knew _he_ made her do it…hurt her like this…and guilt and shame accompanied the anger like always, and he'd started hitting the tree, he could hardly beat the hell out of himself, couldn't he?

He looked at his still bloodied knuckles, flesh torn open. But seriously what the fuck she had been thinking, cutting herself like that…in this infected fucking world… _Don't leave me again, please._

It was his damn fault. If he hadn't pushed her away like he'd done, if he hadn't told her about Maggie out of spitefulness, but instead he'd manned up and accepted this thing between them, it wouldn't have been like that. _She_ wouldn't have been like that.

Fuck, even trying to protect her from harm, he'd managed to fail her again. Daryl grumbled out, looking around the woods, trying to find a creek. Water was the first priority as well, and if there was a sign of those damn wolves, Daryl knew it was gonna be somewhere close to a water source.

The quiet of the woods calmed his nerves like always, as he tried to wrap his mind what had happened. He would _never_ let her go out of his sight, never again, not even for a second, her slashed forearm were just added to his repertoire of nightmares… She wasn't supposed to be like this, it was so wrong, so wrong he couldn't even begin to tell how wrong it was; self-harm was a shit people like Daryl Dixon did, not people like Beth.

But he knew it was his own damn shit, so he could deal with it. He'd never let Beth be like that, _never_. So, he obviously got a _girl_ now.

And he had no idea what that fuck meant. Was he her boyfriend now? Her lover? It sounded so stupid he didn't even know if he'd swear or laugh. But last night… the last night… It was worst of his nights, but it was still best of his nights, too. Worst was seeing her like that, his anger and guilt, too, but it was still the best, simply because he'd passed whole night holding her in his arms, caressing her hair, whispering into her ear.

Daryl had realized she fit along his body perfectly, like she was chiseled out specifically for him, as if they were carved out specifically to hold each other between in their embrace. She was even softer than he remembered, and she was close, so close, like she was a part of him, a piece of him, and she was. She was a part of him, the best part. Even funeral home wouldn't have come closer to the last night, watching her as she slept, telling her he'd stayed, feeling her humming with content, nesting herself against him back.

Daryl couldn't even remember the last time he'd slept with anyone like that, _if_ he had ever, but it felt so good, so right, and he really felt like a thickheaded prick not do it earlier. Daryl knew he should've been afraid, he'd always hated intimacy, always felt himself trapped, but right then, right that moment he felt only alive, blood rushing inside his vein, making him remember once again they weren't dead, not yet.

Perhaps having a _girl_ wasn't that bad, either, he also accepted, remembering the morning, because at the morning it'd became even better, and he'd kissed her… like he'd _let_ himself imagine a few times before when his guards had crumbled in the long, cold nights, keeping watches, and before he'd teased her, and it really felt like funeral home—just them out in the woods, alone, seeing _if_ it would work out.

But they weren't alone. They were with the group, and out there were the monsters, too. Focusing ahead, he wandered his eyes again, trying to find at least a game. Their supplies were getting thinner, and soon they were going to entirely depend on what he would find, hunt in the woods. They'd better find a place to hole up before the winter arrived fully, and Beth and Amanda were right on that point, even though Daryl still didn't know how he felt about it—searching for the monsters. Daryl Dixon was no damn hero, he didn't do this shit, but Beth had put it in her mind, he could see, so that was once again the end of the story for him.

Not that he would ever let her come with them searching, of course, _never_. He'd enough scares of a lifetime, and he was really too old for this shit.

His face soured as the familiar phrase brought back the familiar insecurities, the greasy, sticky feel of not being the right one for her, and he pushed it down with vehemence, remembering how right it felt last night, it _wasn't_ wrong. He told it himself, a couple times, this…perhaps wasn't still right, but it was what she needed, and he'd promised—he'd promised he would never leave her again, and he didn't _want_ to leave her—ever again, even though he was an unworthy sonofabitch, he still wanted her, he still wanted this—them being together, kissing and everything… and if he was going to burn in the hell for an eternity for it, Daryl decided he would, he would burn gladly.

# # #

Amanda wanted to hit something, repeatedly. In fact, she wanted to hit at someone repeatedly, but as of the moment she could settle with hitting at _anything_, a walker or a damn cowboy with a slight southern drawl... she wasn't picky. Something inside her was raging, howling with silent cries, poking at her pins and needles, biting…

She grumbled at the thought, her mouth turning down—she was starting hating that fucking word, and she fucking hated Rick Grimes, too. She winced and the corner of her mouth twitched—and she almost shouted at the top of her lungs with every swear word known to mankind, she knew she should stop, it was bad—anger fogged the mind, made you dumb, and she was never dumb. Being dumb was another luxury she could never afford, not now, not then.

She had to cool down. Being angry was as useless as being depressed if it couldn't turn into a motive. Despite the satisfaction it'd bring, there was no point with being angry with Rick. It wasn't like that he'd done anything, either, it was her who had started it last night; _he_ had done nothing.

Her face soured further. _Nothing_. She was starting hating that word, too. _That was exactly what I kept saying whenever Daryl made me mad with his antics. _She walked toward the girls. She needed her mind focused on something else. Since they'd stay here for the day, she better made another lesson with the girls. Soon they wouldn't have another chance. Whitney was _still_ whining, and if Amanda would lose her temper, she would as least have a cover.

She let out a silent derisive snort. She didn't even _know_ why she was this riled. So yeah, he'd bit her, and a part of her wanted him to do much more, but so what? They always had that tension between them, it was no news. Once she thought…felt…they had… she stopped the thought again, much like the last time. They had nothing.

_Nothing_.

The thing was…the thing that truly worried her, because if she had to completely honest with herself Amanda was angry the most…at herself. She didn't know why she did what she did. Since the morning she was trying to understand what had really driven her to test him again last night, and she couldn't find any reason whatsoever, either than…she _wanted_ to do it… And it was bad, like with capital.

_You're enjoying this, aren't you…pushing my damn buttons?_

God, she was an idiot. But she was, she _was_ enjoying it—pushing his buttons to see how he would shove back…and he did shove back, good lord, did he shove back… her hand touched the mark at the corner of her mouth, as she trembled and frowned, yanking her hand back.

This had to be stop. It was _stupid_, served no purpose. She wasn't like this, she didn't do things for _fun_, and it made her feel threatened again…the lines blurring. Amanda was a creature of familiar patterns, of comfort zones, even in the apocalypse. She liked things to stay the way they were, she _hated_ change. In the safe zone, you were in control, but every change meant a risk. With each step you took out you were also faced with losing what you had in your hands, so she hated taking unnecessary risks, never challenged anyone or anything unless it became necessary. Testing the waters while growing bouncing off foster homes to learn what kind of people she'd ended up with was a necessity, not a game—why they'd taken her in? What were their motives? Money or a longing for children, or simply being good citizens, or something else…? And she'd had to learn them, learn the reasons behind their actions if she wanted to protect herself.

With Rick, there was no reason for that, not anymore. She'd learned enough of him to understand what cloth he was made of, and she'd made her decision to stay with him, despite anything. She needed to be a part of them. She _wanted_ to be a part of…his family, and she was…trying. So there was _really_ no logical reason for what she'd done last night, provoking him like that and got bitten at the end.

_What are you then…?_

The question caught her so unawares she couldn't have even formed a reply back, but only backed away. She hadn't known how to answer truly. Amanda always knew what she didn't want to be. She didn't want to be a victim of circumstances, didn't want to follow the footsteps that laid to her at the birth, the poor little orphan girl, didn't want to be a dirty cop like everyone expected her to end up because it was _her_, like it was…her fate and she couldn't escape from it. No, Amanda made her own destiny.

But what she was exactly, she didn't know. She knew she wasn't Beth, knew she wasn't Michonne, but those didn't explain who she was, and she was getting bored with defining herself with all the people she wasn't. _You could be more…_

Perhaps Beth was right, she really could be more, but even though she was trying, she could still remember the feel of hands at her neck and how it felt seeing the distrust in Rick's eyes. Yes, Amanda could be very forgiving when she wanted, but she didn't easily forget. The whole situation was getting out of control, and she _hated_ when it happened, too. So she was keeping her distance, trying to balance her checkbook to see how sums were adding up. _So_ she _wasn't_ avoiding him_. _ She was _regrouping_. She'd fallen back, calling a tactical retreat, to analyze the situation, and adjust her position accordingly.

She did it countless time, hell, her whole life was just that… adjusting her position… her eyes wandered around for a second, and found Rick looking at her from afar, standing beside Carl, holding his baby girl in his arms—and she snapped her head away so quick, for a moment she felt like a moron, her cheeks flushing—and really…she was getting pathetic… She wasn't avoiding him, _not at all._

Anger started coming at her again… She forced it down, and instead turned her look at the girls in front of her. They still looked as miserable as ever, and seeing them like that hadn't done any good on her frayed nerves. If they kept doing this, kept being this miserable, they would get themselves killed or worse—caused someone else get killed, and then her conscience would cry over that fact, too, as if she needed something else to worry over.

She really hated when people died on her, leaving her to deal with the aftermath. It left a bitter taste over her tongue, made her feel like a failure, like she had failed, her mind full of _what ifs_—every time she thought of Grady, she couldn't help it but feel like she'd failed…something, scenarios turning in her mind, and even though she knew the thought was absurd, but it was still there. What Dawn had managed to keep up for more than a year, she managed to break down like…what, in two weeks?

And Whitney was still gripping the damn knife so tight she was going to have a wrist ache in the night. "Whitney—pinch grip… gentle—don't hold the knife too tight, and how many fucking _times_ do I need to tell it?" She walked to the old woman, and held her wrist—the bony, thin withering thing— and felt like a royal bitch yelling at the old woman like this, then with the corner of her eyes she picked up Rick giving the little baby to Carl, and started walking—to them. Her heart started fastening, and really, she was just being stupid— there was no logical reason to act like this… and he was being stupid too, could he just take the hint and leave her the fuck alone.

"How's it going?" Rick asked, standing beside her, looking at the three women with searching eyes, one hand loosely rested on his hip, one leg ahead the other in the pose, and it was like his Sheriff pose, too, something like screaming like cop. Vaguely she understood she had no pose like that—no one could tell she was a cop at the first sight, whereas everyone would assume Rick was—like Lamson did, Lamson had recognized the pose immediately.

_What are you then…_ the question echoed in her mind, and Amanda pursed her lips, getting irritated, "They're okay."

Rick frowned at her answer. "Have they killed a walker yet?" he questioned.

Amanda shook her hair back off her shoulder in defiance for the girls. "Not yet," she said, "I was going to take them out at the church, but after what happened—we kinda get sidetracked."

His frown got heavier. He turned aside to give her a hard look. "They gotta to learn how to defense themselves."

At his tone, Whitney winced, her already watery eyes getting wetted further, as if she could not understand that man was the same man who had given her his own share of the meal last night, and Amanda snickered inside bitterly, _welcome to my world, sister…_ "They will, stop pestering me!"

He shot at her a glare, then his eyes caught at her lips, she _just_ saw it—the blue eyes following the lines of her mouth and fell on the teeth mark—his eyes darkening, and Amanda felt like running… no… _retreating_.. "Fine," he snapped, his eyes lifting up at hers.

"Good," she snapped back, and they shared a look for a second that felt like eons, and her heart was still beating so fast in her chest…her blood was drumming inside her ears… With a hiss, she turned and stormed off.

She was just walking…away, where she went didn't matter as long as she was going away from _him_. Then she heard the footsteps, following her behind. "Amanda," he hissed at her back.

She pretended not to hear it, and kept walking.

"Amanda," he called out a bit louder, but still not too loud as they were going out of the camp, "Amanda, stop."

She threw at him a look over her shoulder, "I really don't want to talk to you, Rick," she said tersely, "Leave me alone."

His hand reached to hold her wrist, "I said stop."

Then on reflex, because she was again very angry without any real reason—and because she was _so_ fucking stupid, she reacted. She grabbed his wrist on her hand, too, rising it, and spinning around herself behind his arm bending down, she got behind his back in two quick steps, and twisted up his arm higher, making him a hiss out of his nose. "I told you _not_ to touch me again."

Turning his head aside, he gave her a look, then twisted around too, and within a quick move, he swept her feet off the ground, making her fall down on her back. He mounted over her straddling her outer hips, his hands fixing her at the ground at the shoulders, his eyes darkened—glinting— and he leaned down over her further... Her breath took off.

His weight was heavy on her, and it felt wrong—and felt also good and it really shouldn't… And even though she knew more than five different escapes from the mount position, she didn't move, not even an inch. "Rick—" she said instead, looking at him pointedly— _Don't do this._

Though, it _really_ felt good, and her reasons why they wouldn't do it was becoming blurry— goddammit, she _wanted_ him, and it was just sex, couldn't really hurt—they'd just have some wild outdoor sex—nothing serious— she couldn't be anything to him, really… only his mistress…

Her face sobered. "_Rick_," she called at him again, sterner.

"Why it always has to be like this with you?" he asked, a slight anger edging his tone, too, "I came to talk."

"Really?" she snapped back, her grimace getting heavier, "Each time we talk, I get a bite." She flashed a smile at him, one of the ones he hated, "Maybe we should stop talking."

Rick gave her a look. "Do you want _us_ to?" _There's no us.._. she recalled her own words, staring at him back… the danger bells were running high and clear in her mind, warning her she was about to… tread in the dangerous waters again, too risky to test—and she should pull back, retreat where she knew it was safe, but there was something with Rick Grimes… something that almost made her…wanting to try further… but Amanda _really_ hated getting out of her comfort zone, and _trying_ hadn't worked all that much for her the first time.

Rick was still looking at her, as if waiting through her indecision to make up her mind, because she also realized he wasn't going to make the first move, not Rick Grimes. If they were doing it, it was going to be her decision; he was making sure of it, the damn man… Then he smiled at her… "Scared?" he asked.

And yes, she _was, _and she hated hearing it from him. She fucking hated _him, _too. She let out a hiss, then rising her head she caught up his lips, and she bit him.

His hand tightened in her hair in response, pulling her up closer to him and forced her mouth to open as she kept biting his lips, the blood slowly lining over his brushy beard, the metallic taste of it at the tip of her tongue. She tried to reach out and grab his hair too, fighting for dominance, but he caught her hands with his other hand and moving them over her head, he braced them on the ground, pushing her backwards. He broke the kiss a second later, pulling an inch back, and looked at her.

"This's just sex," she then clarified, "And I'm _still_ hating you," and told him as he started lowering his head again for another kiss.

Rick flashed at her another faint smile, almost amused, before claiming her lips again, "I _know_."

# # #

When Beth found Maggie, sitting under a tree, cleaning her knife with a cloth, her bigger sister wasn't surprised, instead she looked like she was expecting. Beth stood in front of her, looking down at her as Maggie put the cloth aside her on the ground. Her eyes were red, and Beth knew she'd been crying again. Maggie had been crying non-stop after what happened between them, even though Beth had ignored her, she'd seen it, noticed it grudgingly, but also with a bit satisfaction, even though she could never admit it aloud, because she knew her bigger sister was hurt, she'd hurt her, Beth _still_ mattered to her…

She shouldn't felt like this, she knew, but still she did. "Glenn said you were looking for me last night," Maggie said, stabbing he knife into the dirt, too.

Beth nodded. "Yes," she answered, and sat down, "We need to talk."

Maggie stared at her, her eyes watering again, "Beth—I'm sorry, I'm so sorry," she mumbled.

Beth shook her head, "Tell me something else," she told her bigger sister back, "Don't tell me you're sorry, but help me understand, _make_ me understand," Because Beth wanted to forgive her, she really did, not only because Amanda had told her she had to make her peace with it, and move on, but because she wanted to move on too, it was a new morning, a new day. Daryl had just kissed her in front of everyone, they had a future together, and she didn't want this hung between like an invisible wall, something Daryl would always blame himself for…no, she wanted them to move on, she just wanted to move on and live… They deserved it. But she just could not understand, could not…accept it. "We're sisters, Maggie," Beth told her then, because it was where it hurt the most, "We're the last of Greenes," she said, "We were supposed to hold each other's back, _always_. And you didn't care enough to look for me."

Maggie shook her head. "It wasn't like that—Beth, it wasn't like that. I—I-had to find Glenn, but it wasn't like that…"

"Then how was it?" she asked, almost imploring, because she _really_ wanted to understand.

"I—I wanted to look for you, too, but I—I can't live without Glenn, Beth, not anymore. You're my sister, Beth, but he's my husband. I—I _had_ to find him. Do you know what I mean?"

A part of her raged at the idea like the first time, but another part did _understand_ it. Beth could not live without Daryl too, she'd turned out a wreck because he didn't want her—ending up cutting herself, it was stupid, it was sick, perhaps wouldn't have changed anything like he'd said, but Beth couldn't make this world alone anymore, she didn't want to.

"Later—? After Daryl told you I was alive?" she then asked, wordlessly accepting, because she didn't know how to put it into the worlds, because she wasn't sure even if she had forgiven her, even if she'd accepted it-she'd accepted Maggie cared more for Glenn than her, but she wasn't sure if she would ever forget her bigger sister written her off as death this quickly.

Maggie shook her head. "I couldn't—I'm sorry, I just couldn't. I lost so much, Beth, daddy, you, Glenn—then I just found him, and Terminus _happened_." Tears started rushing out of her eyes, and she shook her head, "Daryl told me you were alive… and I wanted to remember you as you were—I couldn't see it—if I didn't know for sure, you'd be always alive—out there somewhere…h-happy…" The last stumbled on her lips, as her tears turned into a flood, "I _am_ sorry," she mumbled out, holding her face between her hands. "I—I asked Daryl too… if he was really sure—I wanted to know—I had to know…but still couldn't—Daryl did—he left to look for you that night after we talked. Beth, do you understand?" Maggie asked again, imploring, "You're _his_ family, too."

"I know," she said back, her voice simple and clear, because Maggie was right, and because she knew it was true. Daryl was her family, and she was his family, too. She looked at her sister, and simply told her what she felt, "Maggie—it still hurts, knowing that you wrote me off as dead, but I get it now. I accept it. I don't know if I would _ever_ manage to forget it, but I get it."

Through her tears, Maggie nodded, "Thank you. I love you," Maggie said, looking at hopeful, her eyes shining…imploring.

And Beth let out a sigh, standing up, "I know you do, sister," she said, and looked down at her, and told her because she _really_ wanted to move on, and she knew it was going to be a journey and she had to start at somewhere, "and I _still_ love you, too."

Maggie smiled at her, all tears and shines, Beth walked away. She sat down with Carol, Amanda was nowhere to be seen, and waited for her own family to come back. Carol reached out to hold her hand, and gave it a squeeze, a kind, happy at her lips, "I'm glad to see you like this," the older woman said, "You deserve this."

Beth nodded. They deserved this, and she wanted to be his, she wanted to be _really_ his, like two halves of a whole, completing each other, there was her—and he was the rest of her— Before the sun set in, Daryl came back—his hands were empty, and she was hungry—but it didn't matter, she just wanted him.

She walked to him, and hugged him, wrapping her arms around his neck, and placed a kiss at his neck. He was tense at first with her affectionate gesture, stiff and wired, even though he was the one first who had kissed her at the morning, but a later he relaxed, and loosely held her back. "Missed me?" he roughed out, against her skin, and he sniffed… breathing her scent.

She nodded. "I always miss you when you're gone, too, Daryl Dixon," she whispered out. He smiled—she felt it—"Daryl," she then called at him softly, "Make love to me. I don't want to wait anymore. I want us be whole."

Her only answer was his tightening arms around her body before he held her hand and made them walk away.

* * *

_A/N: Oh my god, I'm finally over with couples getting finally sex! So now... we could move on with the plot bits too. This chapter chapter was supposed to be with the last one, frankly, but I couldn't finish it-so you could think this as a part two from the last one. I'm quite happy about where we are right now; Daryl and Beth settling in their relationship, Amanda and Rick...well, having sex and be in denial generally, heh. I can't wait to get them to Alexandria too, but there is still time for that._

_Like always, please review if you feel charitable. I always like hearing from you! Thank you._


	24. Chapter 24

_A/N: Hell there, another monstrous update, but it had to be done. I'm very excited about this chapter too, because we've arrived, I think, the best episode of the whole series, "Them", and in my opinion the only good, I mean, the only part of Beth's death, and I adore Rick's speech "we're the walking dead" and Daryl's heated answer "We ain't them". _

_I need to raise the ratings a bit, I think, but I guess a T rating would be enough. I don't believe it deserves a M, but I've never been sure of what is worth of an M, and what not, heh. _

_Enjoy._

XXIV.

When the dawn came, the fire Daryl had built last night was already waned out, but Beth vaguely felt the chill of the morning as she was wrapped in Daryl's arms under the blanket, cricket chirpings low in her ears with Daryl's rhythmic breathing. Daryl had built a fire further away from the others as they passed the night alone not to be disturbed, even though twice Daryl had had to leave her under the blankets and dealt with a few wayward walkers had found their little simple camp, and also made sure they stayed clothed after…uh… the deed… the _deeds_… _each time_… in case that they would need to run off on an emergency, wouldn't have done it naked, but still it was the best night of her life. Smiling at herself, Beth stretched out as much as she could in the tight embrace, a dull twinge inside her throbbing as her groin ached, and it was a good pain, too, making her feel alive. She frowned at the thought, her forearm coming at her, but pushed it away. She didn't want to think of it now, not right now, not ever if possible.

But it _was_ aching, a constant remember what had happened last night—that Beth Greene was no longer a virgin. Her smile grew bigger, she felt sheepishly happy even though she knew it was stupid, but she was happy. She just had her first time with the man she'd fallen in love, who loved her back as fiercely as she did. What a girl could ask for more? Slowly turning in his arms, she faced with him. He was still sleeping, and she saw with satisfaction that the ever grim lines etched over his features had loosened a bit, his lips lost that tension as his eyebrows… he looked in peace. Beth wished he'd also felt at peace, because she wanted him to be, she wanted him to be as happy as she was. He deserved happiness, more than anyone. She touched his face with her fingertips—tracing lines across his skin, the small almost invisible scares, and she remembered last night again, remembered the scars over his body, the way she'd traced them too like now—and he'd let her. He'd just stood still and watched her as she weaved her fingers over the scars, his eyes heavy and darkened in silence, and how she'd wished to erase those lines off his skin, erase his past, erase all those memories she knew were there. _I was fifteen when I first burned myself with a cigarette._ Her heart ached, because she couldn't erase the past, but she could make him happy—no one would make anyone happy, but she could at least try, she could at least be there for him. They were family.

As if sensing her touch, he opened his eyes then Beth wondered if he'd been already awake like the last time, pretending asleep watching her, but she smiled further, her fingers pushing the dark locks away off his eyes so she could see him better. She wanted to see him fully, wanted him to see her fully, too. It was them, being together truly for the first time, belonging to each other. "Mornin'" she whispered through her smile.

"Morn—" he roughed out something close to a morning she supposed and gave her a faint smile back as she played with his hair. They stayed in silence for a little while, only looking at each other then Daryl asked, "ya good?"

It was like fifth time he'd asked her _that_. He'd been careful with her last night, felt almost restrained, like he was holding himself back and she knew it was for her sake. She wasn't a glass doll that would break if he _played_ too hard but for the moment Beth didn't feel like opening up another discussion, she knew it was still hard for Daryl—accepting this—having sex with her, and what they did was almost blew her mind off, and he'd managed to make her come both times, so really, what a girl could ask for more? She'd been a virgin, yes, but she wasn't clueless, before the turn, in the school almost all of her friends had already lost their virginity, and Beth bet none of them had had two orgasms in the night. She _was_ lucky, truly lucky and she couldn't help but wonder how it would be when Daryl lost that restraint and got comfortable enough—the tug inside her started pulsing harder, and she felt herself getting wet again, the prospect turning in her mind… she shook her head a bit to clear her mind, trying to slow down herself. She didn't want to push him. It hadn't worked well the first time.

Carol had advised before to take it slow, easing into it, and she'd said he'd welcome her in, and Beth could see now it was true—it was what she should've done at the first place, shouldn't have forced him like she had, but…well, he wasn't innocent, either, so she guessed they both were at fault. She didn't want to point fingers at each other anymore, she wanted to move on, keep going…that was what they all would do—that was all left to them—all the meaning left to them now. She recalled what she'd told Dawn a lifetime ago—_You find a family, you stick with them, and you endure. All the meaning there now is just what we choose to have_. And they'd chosen this, be together and endure.

"We should return," Daryl then said, "Rick's waiting."

Beth nodded. Before they left off the camp at the small clearing, they'd met with Rick as he was coming out off the tree line, _then_ Amanda had appeared, following him… looking disheveled, tousled hair and all and Beth had known. She wasn't the only one her itch had been scratched yesterday—there were new hickeys at Amanda's neck and Rick's, too, as the other man stood rigid, looking at them—Amanda snorting out derisively, "Ugh, no privacy at all," she'd snickered, walking away, leaving behind Rick to throw at her a glare—and Beth knew it wasn't going to be a picnic with them, even now.

Rick had then turned and only told Daryl not to go away too much and returned at the dawn. "We need to leave in the morning," he'd said, "We gotta move," but had left the rest unsaid, and an awkard silence had fallen between them, as Beth had felt a blush rising over her cheeks. Rick had then cleared his throat, and nodded at Daryl, and walked away as Daryl had only grunted out low. Beth had felt exposed, even though she knew she shouldn't, should own it, this was her decision, and she had made up her mind, but still she wished she had Amanda's aloofness, not this awkward silence. No one batted an eye when Glenn and Maggie did the same, sleeping away from them for a bit of privacy when they felt it, so she guessed like the others, Beth herself would need to get used to it, too. But Beth knew now when they returned, she was going to have to watch him going out. It wasn't the first time she did, watching him as he went to hunting or supply runs, but now it was different. She wished they could have stayed there forever, just them. Then she _remembered_. "Daryl-" she called him, lifting her eyes up at him, "At the funereal home—" she said, "I could've stayed with you there." She paused, "I could've stayed with you at anywhere forever."

Daryl stared at her for a second, then clutching her shirt, he yanked her toward him and kissed her hard in answer before turning her on her back, fast hands already started unbuttoning her jeans.

Then Beth thought with relief and satisfaction that maybe she didn't have to wait long before Daryl got used it.

# # #

Daryl had to hand it to her, Shepherd was right about it, there wasn't no fucking privacy among them, but luckily this time the attention of the group wasn't focus on them, but instead it was turned on Rick as the other man pretended not to notice the silent gazes on him—and on Amanda, mostly on their hickey and teeth mark decorated necks and lips, and once again Daryl wondered what the hell was happening between them, because it looked like they had gotten into a fight more than having sex.

Daryl wasn't whining, though. Whatever to make the others not to give them _those_ looks… He'd been careful, of course, he hadn't _bitten_ her for starters… even though he'd come close, so fucking _close_—and it took everything in him to hold himself back—to hold up his reserves not to sink his teeth into the delicate, soft skin she had bared for him as she came under him—shattered into million pieces—because of him, and he should've done it, should've claimed her—marked her—she was _his_… But he couldn't. Beth wasn't like the girls he'd used to fuck in the toilets, hard and rough quickies, both only looking for their own gratifications, taking whatever they could, with no care for the other. It was different with Beth. Beth _was_ different, so sex had to be different, too, though he had no idea how it should be. It'd been her first time, too, just like he'd expected it, and Daryl had been really out of his depths, hell, he'd never been with a virgin before, aside _himself_, but that wouldn't count. He didn't got any fucking idea what he was supposed to do, but after she'd gone and simply told him to make love to her, there was nowhere to run anymore. He didn't want to run, either, he was tired of running, tired of keeping her at arm's reach, so he'd just take her hand and walked them away. The rest was…the rest was like a dream…or like a fantasy or he'd died and somehow instead of hell, had gone to heaven because it felt like that…having her exactly felt like heaven. Jesus Christ, he almost grunted out at his own thoughts… and Merle was laughing his ass off in his head… He was so screwed…

And he _was_ screwed because Rick was staring at him as if waiting an answer, and Daryl had no damn idea about the question, because he hadn't been listening a fuck, but instead daydreaming about Beth Greene and _heaven_. "Daryl?" Rick asked again.

"Hmm—" Daryl grunted, giving a look back at Rick, and got irritated how the other man looked cool even when hickeys and teeth marks were adorning his neck. He had to hand it to him, too; Rick Grimes was a different kind of sonofabitch.

"We go look around, you and me, Amanda and Abraham." With the corner of his eyes, Daryl caught a slight twitch at the corner of Amanda's mouth, then her face turned to passive once again, but Daryl hadn't missed it. Rick was _really_ a different kind of a sonofabitch. "Then at noon we come back and start moving out. We stay off the road. We don't take our chances on the road."

"The road is shorter—" Michonne said in return, "Wherever we're going, we gotta get to there quickly." There was a pause as everyone thought about what Michonne had said. They had skipped the dinner last night, and lessened the rations half at the morning.

Rick shook his head. "The road is too dangerous. We stay at the woods." He wandered his eyes around the rest of the group, too, "You start packing and be ready to leave. Try to find something to eat too."

Daryl turned to Abraham, standing up as Rick handed the radio to him. "Follow the creek at north side, we'll cover the south. We radio each other if we find something."

They all started going different directions. Maggie first gave her a look before she walked away with Glenn. Daryl was glad Beth had given her big sister another chance because seeing them like that was making his guilt bitter, and Daryl also had an inkling it was one of the reasons for her forgiveness, too. She'd said she wanted to move on, and she was right. They had to move on. His eyes looked for her as she stood at the other side, and then he saw Carol giving at him a small smile. Nodding at her slightly, Daryl gave the older woman a smile back. He knew Carol was happy for him. And he was happy.

He turned and looked at Beth, who was staring at Rick's back with a frown. Then Daryl sighed. "He's being a prick," Beth said when he came to her side, and turned aside, "Daryl, talk to him, okay?" she asked, looking at him.

"Talk to him what?" Daryl asked back, playing dumb.

Beth gave him a pointed look in return. "I ain't know, girl, don't feel if we should get into between 'em." His eyes moved over Shepherd for a second who stood there with the red jarhead, "Even last night they were like this."

"Well, we're already involved, and they're our friends. I want them to be happy as much as we are, Daryl. Rick will be good for Amanda, you know it."

Daryl had his own doubts about it. "He just teamed her up with Abraham, Beth," he reminded her.

Beth sighed out after that. "I know. I'll talk to her, too. You just talk to Rick, please?" She gave at him a look, titling her neck aside, with a smile, her eyes imploring, and he found himself nodding.

_Fuck! _Had he _just_ accepted to have a talk of relationship stuff with Rick? He'd truly become her bitch, but then again there were worse things to be Daryl thought as she took a few steps, closing on in him. "Be careful, 'kay?" she asked, rising her hand to touch his cheek gently, and smiled, "And come back soon, I'll be waiting."

Half an hour later, they were searching the creek a safe fifty yards away from the banks, the banks of the water sources were always the trickiest and the most dangerous parts of the wildness as every creature lived in the woods had to get come to the banks for water, too, and as the soil beneath the water baseline was muddy, the ground was much trickier, one foot place at a wrong place and you could find yourself in the water. At fall, it wouldn't much of a problem, it could've given a good call, but at winter it meant hypothermia in fifteen minutes if you hadn't set up a quick fire. So Daryl always put a fifty yards safety between the banks and himself, never going to the banks as long as it was necessary.

Rick was looking at the forage for signs too, and Daryl thought how he would start, when it'd be the best time, but then decided there wouldn't be any best time. So he just dived in, "You and Shepherd—" he asked, grunting out, "You're—uh—at it?"

From where he crouched, Rick lifted his head up, looking at him, then turned back to inspect the ground. "Did Beth force you to talk to me?" Rick asked back instead. Daryl shrugged in response. "We had sex last night," Rick then stated.

Well, they all had figured it out. "Yeah… and _we're_ together here now, and she's out with Abraham…"

Rick frowned, his face turning grim, "She's driving me crazy, and I'm full with her shit," Rick hissed, "_So_ she's out with Abraham." Daryl looked at him in silence. Rick's frown grew deeper, and he grimaced, "It was _just_ sex, Daryl," he said and added with a sneer, "so she keeps telling me."

Ah, Daryl thought, slowly getting it. "Hmm—" he grunted out, "You want it be more?" he asked back, looking at the other man searching, but Rick shook his head.

"I don't know," he answered, and sighed out, "It's—"

Daryl gave the other man a look, "Complicated?"

Rick ran his hand over his hair, "Yeah. Complicated." He gave back Daryl a look then, "But when it isn't, right?" He paused, "You and Beth-? You good?"

Daryl didn't hesitant, "Yeah, we're good," he answered, "She's pissed at you, though." They started walking again, "She says you're being a prick."

Rick sighed again. "You know Amanda had come to me pissed off demanding that I talk to you too when _you_ were being a prick."

In answer, Daryl only grunted out.

# # #

At noon, they came back, empty handed and they started moving out. They had left so little now it took almost no time to get ready, their backpacks getting lighter, and Beth felt everyone's morale had already started going down at the first day. But really what were they expecting? A quick escape, a sort of divine invention, finding the wolves or a place to settle in just at the very day they had started looking?

Daryl had found some mushrooms at the woods that he was sure not poisonous, and they'd eaten them quick, six at a person, and set out to the road. She was walking beside Daryl at the front as he made them follow the road but safely hidden from the sight at the other side of the tree line. Rick was beside them too, holding Judith up within his arm as Carl walked at his left side, but at right side there was Michonne. He couldn't talk with Daryl—there wasn't any time, Rick was adamant to leave as soon as they had returned, but Amanda was walking at the back between Abraham and Rosita, a pinched expression at her face as the former wards walked a few steps ahead of her. Abraham had started drinking from his whiskey again. Beth frowned. Had he been drinking out there, too? That was too dangerous, and Rick had sent Amanda with him. Beth looked ahead and sent a glare at the other man. She didn't know what exactly happening between them, but she wasn't liking it.

Though, there were other things she wasn't liking, as well. It was hot and cold at the same time, and she couldn't explain. The sun was up and they were sweating like a pig, for a while it hid behind clouds and they started shivering with wind. Beth hated it, and she knew if the weather kept being like this, soon they would get sick. There were no medicine with them too, the precious stash they'd managed to pick up from Grady was lost in the church among their other supplies. Beth felt bad the most for them. Food and water were a must to survive but medicine and guns were harder to procure.

"I saw a car on the road," Glenn said from her left side, where he was screening the road, and Daryl rushed at him, slightly touching at her upper arm before he left to check it. The gestures sent a surge of warm feelings over the discomforts of being out at the road, but when they returned, they said they found two empty water bottles and one unopened bag of crackers. Beth smiled bitterly, warm feelings vanishing, and they all continued walking.

When they stopped at night, she was so hungry her stomach started rebelling. She sat on the ground tired to bone, and sighed, understanding clearly that their plan sucked. At her left side, Whitney started vomiting bile as Amanda pushed her hair back off her face, holding her forehead in a grip before the old woman fell. Beth took the crackers and walked to them.

She gave the bag to the old woman, "Here, eat," but Amanda pushed it away.

"No," Amanda said, "It belongs to everyone. She needs to keep up." She turned to Whitney, "You will keep up, do you hear me?" she hissed at the older woman, "You will. You're not _allowed_ to die."

Inwardly, Beth sighed. Amanda Shepherd really got the worst bedside manner. Beth touched at her arm, and pulled her away from others. "Amanda, ya okay?" she asked.

Amanda gave her a seething look, "Just _peachy_, Beth," she sneered.

Beth returned her look, "You know you don't have to be a bitch every time someone worries about you."

She shook her head, "Go away Beth, go find Daryl, and be fucking happy," she snarled, "I can't deal with this now."

Beth looked at her coolly. "You're just like this because Rick sent you out with Abraham."

Amanda glared at her, "I'm tired and hungry, _and_ I've been walking since the morning."

"So we all," Beth shot back, "What happened last night?" she asked, not waiting for other woman's retort, "How did you two have sex and then turn up like this?"

She shrugged, "We had a fight."

Beth squinted, recognizing her own words, "Before or after?"

Amanda shrugged off again, "Both."

"Amanda, what did you do?"

Amanda straightened her shoulders. "How do you know it was _me_?" Beth simply looked at her, but didn't answer. The former policewoman sighed then, "He wanted to talk. I told him there's nothing to talk. Told him it was just sex."

Beth squinted further, and asked again, "Before or after?"

Amanda ran her eyes away, "_Both_."

Beth shook her head. "You're even _stupider_ than Daryl."

Amanda's eyes snapped back at her, "Speaking of the devil," Amanda said in response, "I was wondering what happened exactly between you two, too? You said you had a fight but what kind of a fight was that it made Daryl Dixon giving you kisses in public overnight?"

Beth stared at her, "Well?" Amanda prompted.

"Rick and you had sex too after a fight."

"And like you can see, we _aren't_ giving each other kisses in public." Amanda sighed, "Rick and I were just horny and wanted to fuck, Beth. It was really about sex. Okay, _maybe_, maybe it's a bit more than sex, there's this…thing between us, but basically it was just about sex. Daryl loves you, Rick lusts after me. So… what happened, really?"

"Rick cares about you, too."

Amanda snorted. "Yeah, I just saw how much he cares about me this morning," she shot back wryly then shook her head, "I'm not a fool, Beth. If you don't want to talk about it, it's fine, but I know something happened, something—enough to break over his reservations—"

Beth let out a sigh. "He caught me doing…something."

Amanda arched an eyebrow, "Something…stupid?" she asked back.

She nodded, "Yeah."

Amanda nodded back. "Okay," she answered, "You—you've stopped doing it?"

Beth nodded again, tears in her eyes again, "Yeah."

"Okay," Amanda said, "It's okay, Beth." She walked to her, and did something Beth would never think of her doing, she hugged her, "We always do something…stupid sometimes."

Hugging her back, Beth wished it was true, wished that she wasn't only the stupid one here. She took a step back, and smiled at Amanda bowing her head, "Thank you."

She sat down, and Amanda followed her, and in the sudden silence, their stomach grumbled. Amanda shook her head. "I'm fucking _hating_ this," she muttered out.

"Yeah…" Beth said back, and looked at her, "You're wrong…about Rick," she clarified and explained, "I've known him more than two years now, and never seen him kissing anyone, let alone have sex casually after Lori's death. At the prison, we had people, many women—they were all practically fawning over him, Amanda. He never even blinked."

But instead of being moved what Beth had said, Amanda just sighed out, "He was in grief, lost his wife in childbirth, I heard. He's still, I guess—that's why he probably keeps Michonne at arm's reach. But he's getting out of it, Beth, and I have no desires to be his Band-Aid until he has fully healed." She paused, "Rick is a family man, Beth, that's not me."

Beth shook her head, "God, you're _really_ even stupider than Daryl. Stop telling yourself that. You don't know it'd be like unless you try it. You know there's something between you."

"Well, I—" she started, then shrugged off.

"A comfort zone a beautiful place but nothing ever grows there, Amanda, remember?" Beth told her back her own words, "You said it yourself." She looked at the older woman, "Are you really content with what you have?"

Amanda gave her a look, and shrugged, "Look, I know you're…scared, but hurt's the part of the package, too," Beth said then.

Amanda huffed, shaking her head. "You know I'm getting to see how you made Daryl into kissing you in public…"

"Talk to him," Beth insisted. She wanted her to be happy, really happy, as she also understood something she hadn't realized before. Amanda was very like Daryl, with the same insecurities and fears, and a part of her wondered that was the reason why she'd wanted the other woman stay at the first place, saw something worth to believe in her. If she…saved Amanda, she would've saved Daryl, too. She was it was stupid, but it was there, stood as a reality. And Rick was calling Daryl as his brother, too, had seen something in him more than being a redneck asshole, like Beth did, and she was hoping Rick would see it in Amanda, too.

But Amanda was shaking her head again, "Talk to him what, Beth?" she asked back, "I don't even know what I'm feeling."

Beth gave her a look, like she was stupid. "Then tell him _that_. Don't tell him it was _just_ sex!"

# # #

Amanda felt like a moron, walking to him, Beth's words turning in her mind, and she really hated getting out of her comfort zone, putting herself out there, opening herself up to another-risking herself like that, giving them power to hurt her back. _Why_ the hell she'd said yes again?

_You could be more._

She was really fucking hating this. And she _knew_ she was right, she would just be used as a band-aid, prettily healing his wounds until he was ready yet again to find himself another wife—hell, he would even want to have another child, it wasn't like that the turn had stopped him before… but there was that little, nagging _what if_ inside her head again—with a voice very sounding like Beth's, asking her what if he wanted to be with her…?

She fucking hated what ifs! And seriously what more she could be in a zombie apocalypse anyways? They were barely surviving here. She had eaten almost nothing in two days! Her eyes caught at Whitney, as the other woman lay to sleep, crying herself into unconsciousness, her fisted hand into her mouth to muffle her cries. Amanda sighed. Whitney was going to die, she could not survive this, and Amanda had better ready herself for it.

Rick was at the first night watch as she walked toward the perimeters, a few yards away from where others slept. When he saw her approaching he didn't say anything—but watched her silently. She sat down on the ground beside him and wrapped her arms around her knees, pulling her legs at her chest. "I—I would've come bringing gifts, but I don't have anything," she said as a greeting.

Rick grunted out. She sighed out, and decided to go with Beth's words, and told him truth as simple as she could be, "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said it. It—it wasn't just sex—" she closed her eyes, breathing out, and when she reopened them, Rick was giving her a look, "There—there's this thing between us…" she continued, "I don't know what it's…but I know it's there."

Still looking at her, Rick nodded, and said, "Yes."

She felt like a weight—a weight she wasn't aware of its existence had lifted off her chest. "But I-" she stopped, swallowed, and tried again before she chickened out, "But I'm—we could—I mean," she shook her head, breathing out again, and let it out in her inhale, "Maybe we shall…try to find out?"

Rick was still staring at her as she stumbled on the words before she had managed it out then gave her a faint smirk, the corner of his lips slightly curved up, and made that little grunt out of his nose… She felt heat emit out of her every pore, flustered, and she really felt like a moron. And he was being a jerk. She sneered at him, starting to rise on her feet, but his hand caught her at the wrist again and pulled her back. He then slowly leaned down forward in on her and kissed her gently at the lips for a second, and pulled back. "Go sleep, we leave at the dawn tomorrow. You're coming with _me_."

She couldn't help it. She smiled like she meant it for the first time in years.

# # #

For the rest of the week, every morning they left the group and came back at noon, empty handed. Before the second week started, Michonne shook her head, and told what everyone was thinking, "We should stop. This isn't working. We need to get back to the road."

Rick looked at Carl, holding Judith in his arms. She was flustered, her eyes were red even though she wasn't crying. Her baby doll's eyes were always red now. Under his beard, his jaw twitched. She hated seeing Judith like this, his beautiful baby, and the bitter taste of failure filled in him again with anger, he'd told them he was going to find a place one way or another way, and he was failing.

Her eyes turned to Amanda. Her hair was plastered at her face with perspiration, her cheeks dirty, the white shirt of her uniform now was almost grey under her denim jacket, one side of her trousers tore when they'd rolled over a ditch yesterday, trying to get away from a sudden small group of walkers. The clothes once had been a part of her uniform, though she didn't look like anything like a cop now, but she never did, not really. More than once Rick had thought of asking her why she'd chosen to be a police officer but he hadn't asked it. She'd had another episode with Whitney this morning, so her lips had that turn down that Rick had learned to stay away.

So, yeah, they were trying… whatever the hell that meant. Most of the times they were still at each other's throat, but they _were_ trying to find out.

But then again Michonne was right. This wasn't working, and they had to find a place. He knew Amanda always listened to the reason, but there was still that downturn at her lips, and Rick wondered not once if it was not only because of the idea, but also about who had suggested it. There was that tension between her and Michonne, always had been, something that Rick had no desires to get into it.

But he knew Amanda always listened to the reason, so he nodded. "Michonne is right," he said, "This isn't going anywhere."

Daryl shook his head, "The road is dangerous."

"And shorter," Rick shot back. The road was dangerous, if not because of walkers but because of people, but on asphalt they could walk quicker, and time was becoming of the essence. They needed to find a place. They'd stayed out in the woods so long. Rick looked at Abraham, who nodded him back, and then Glenn.

Glenn nodded, too. "Yeah," the man said, and looked at Beth, "We could always find monsters to hunt then."

Rick's eyes snapped at the younger woman, as she sent a glare at Glenn, but didn't talk. Beth also recognized the reason when she saw it, too.

"All right, let's move out," Rick said, picking up Judith from Carl.

# # #

The road was hell. Or the hell was a road, a never ending greyness that kept going forever. Time was irrelevant, inconsequential.

They were seated at the banks of the road, each in its own misery. A few walkers were following them behind—but no one gave a damn. Beth wondered if anyone would pick a difference between them from afar. Once she'd thought how Andrea would have missed Daryl as a walker, but now she understood.

"I can't—" Beth forced out through parched lips, shaking her head. She was so thirsty she could barely feel her hunger anymore. Daryl had come back from hunting, only with a few squirrels and he told he'd seen more animals fallen dead to the walkers, but he couldn't find water.

"Yes, you can," Daryl told her simply, but Beth shook her head again. "Beth, close your eyes," Daryl said then.

"No…"

"Beth, it's going to be okay. Close your eyes and open your mouth."

Tears prickled in her eyes, and she did as she was told. She had to. She'd just seen Amanda this morning doing it, even forcing Whitney doing it, but… Closing her eyes, she opened her mouth… and felt the sticky twirling softness inside her mouth, and she almost hurled it down, then a second later, she forced herself to close her mouth, and ate the worms Daryl had picked up off the dirt.

She then lay over Daryl's lap and cried.

# # #

"She's not going to make it—" Amanda whispered at Rick, her eyes turning from Whitney.

"It's not your fault," Rick said, looking at her, craning his neck over Judith to give her a look, "You've done everything you can for her."

"I know," Amanda said, "I know it—but it still...feels like I'm failing her, failing all of them…" She shook her head, "I'm fucking _hating_ this."

Rick gave her a faint smile, lips not parting, "I _know_."

He loosened one arm from Judith, and gently touched her fingertips with his. Her head spun around as she felt them at her skin, but Amanda blamed her hunger for the dizziness.

Judith started crying again, and Rick pulled back his hand, wrapping his arm around her again—hopping the baby in his embrace to hush her—humming to her ear, and for a moment, for a moment, Amanda wondered how it would feel having a family, having Rick's baby… She pushed the thought away.

She turned and walked back to Abraham, "Hey, muscles," she called out, and asked, "Care to share your drink?"

Rick sent her a glare as she took the bottle Abraham handed to her, but pretended not to notice it.

She took a sip from the drink.

# # #

Sasha broke the formation as they stood at the ditch to roll the walkers down from the hill, but instead took a shot, killing the closest one to her—turning everything to shit. Rick shouted, "Flank both sides! We're taking them."

Michonne pushed Sasha back, "Stay back, you're not well."

Beth wanted to laugh. None of them were well. She took her knife and killed a walker nearby, and watched him as the dead fell down, her forearm twinging. Her slashes were already healed, but they still twitched, like a phantasm. She'd heard that people who had missing limbs always felt it as a phantom itch, and her father had used to say he still felt his leg—so she guessed she was feeling that ghost pain, too, itching. Her eyes wandered the fallen bodies… and she shook her head. "We look like them," she whispered.

Daryl's head snapped up at her, hard, stern eyes staring at her, glinting. He crouched at her in one knee, and forced her head to look at him, "We ain't them, girl," he said.

Looking back at him, Beth nodded.

From a few steps away, Amanda swayed on her legs, almost got bit by a walker at the neck before Rick came to her side, and nailed the undead with his machete. He grabbed Amanda's arm and steadied her, "If you take just one sip more from that bottle, I'm gonna rip off your damn throat myself—" He hissed at her, throwing her off away.

Amanda fell on the ground. Beth knew she was crying, too.

# # #

Beth had always loved dogs the most, but at the end she decided dog meat tasted better than worms.

No one talked, but they all ate it in silence.

# # #

"My gun—" Amanda almost screamed one morning, which one Beth wouldn't know anymore. They were at hell, a never ending greyness that kept going forever, and time was irrelevant, inconsequential, "Where is my gun?"

Beth's eyes wandered, counting people, and then she knew the answer. Rick rushed at Amanda's side, "What happened?"

"My gun—it's gone—" she paused, her green eyes wandering too, frantically open, but clear, she hadn't put a drop of drink in her mouth after Rick's ultimatum, "Where's Whitney?"

"I saw her going in the woods…" Daryl said… "Morning calls…"

Amanda started running in the woods, they all followed.

They found the old woman sitting on a tree stump, her back rested on the tree's trunk, her legs stretched out, and Amanda's gun resting in her lap.

Seeing them, the woman brought it against her temple.

"Whitney, stop!" Amanda cried over, running to her, "Don't do this."

"It never ends—" the withering woman said back, "I want it end."

"It will-" Amanda said, sitting in front of her a few inches apart, "It will. We will find a place, and we'll be safe again. Please," she held out her palm over the older woman, "Give me the gun."

Whitney shook her head. "You're lying… Like Dawn did. There is no going back from this, no safe places. This world—" she said, looking around, "This world belong to them now."

"Whitney—" Amanda started, but the gunshot cut her words off, as blood and brain pieces sputtered off at Amanda.

Amanda screamed, and Beth remembered again this was how the world ended now, always with screams.

# # #

Amanda wondered if the sky was crying because of Whitney, or because there were still brain pieces inside her hair. She felt her tears mixed with rain as she lay over on the asphalt—she should've never saved her—never should've saved anyone—she should've never _tried_—

Rick's hand grabbed her at her elbow, bending down and pulled her up. "Enough, Amanda!" he told her adamantly, "You know she wasn't going to make it. You gotta let it go."

She shook her head, rain pouring over her, and Rick Grimes was one of sonofabitch, "I-I—" she said, storm raging above them, and stopped, "She said I was like Dawn."

Rick held her at shoulders, "You're not like Dawn. Dawn didn't make it, you did. So stop this, but _make_ it."

Once again, Amanda found herself not be able to decide if she should kiss him or kick him, so she settled with nodding. "I saw a barn this morning looking for water," Daryl shouted over the storm, "We can go there for the night!"

Rick's hand went through her wet locks, and he held the side of her head firmly, "_We're _going to make it. Trust me."

In answer, Amanda nodded again. She could always trust Rick Grimes on that.

# # #

Daryl had brought them to the shelter. Outside the storm was still booming, a raging fury of the nature, but here at least they would be safe a little. Maggie and Glenn had gone to check the room at the back, and Daryl gave a check around with Rick to settle.

They had a roof over their head once again, at least, and they needed it more than ever. They all had passed two weeks in hell, and that old woman's suicide was the last straw, blowing her head off, and then Daryl knew he'd needed to find a roof for them to stay—and lay their burdens down.

Beth had started touched her forearm, too, he hadn't missed.

So he had gone wandering, trying—the cabins in the forests were mundane things, there had to be one—they were getting closer to the D.C., the population of the countryside would set them up for emergencies but instead of a cabin, he'd found the barn.

Inside it smelled horseshit, but Daryl barely minded it.

Rick built up a fire. Carl and Judith were sleeping with Carol beside the fire. Maggie and Glenn were at the back room, who knew perhaps they'd been doing it, Sasha was with Tyreese, the man had made it too, feverish but still up at his feet. Abraham and his people settled down at the fire, where Beth and Amanda sat at Rick's side, with Michonne at the middle as Daryl stood over them, his eyes at Beth.

She'd made it, too. After the first time, she'd eaten worms, she had almost puked but managed to keep them down, didn't whine even once, but did whatever he had told her. Daryl had wondered how it'd have been if they had been stayed alone in the woods if Grady hadn't kidnapped her, but if this was the answer, Daryl wasn't glad. Things were getting worse. The old woman, Whitney, was right about that. This world belonged to the dead now, but they couldn't give up.

_We look like them…_ Daryl remembered Beth's broken words.

No, never. She would never be one of them. _Never_.

Abraham looked at Carl and the sleeping ass-kicker, and grunted out taking a sip from his bottle. Amanda thankfully stayed off of it, because every time she took a sip, Daryl half expected Rick to kick her ass for it. "I used to pity the children who born in this world, but perhaps they're luckier," the words almost slurred even though Daryl knew the former major could still kick some majestic ass, "They never knew the world the way it was before."

"Children always are more capable to adaption," Amanda said, "More flexible."

Rick nodded slowly. "They get to grow up in this world," he said, and Daryl didn't really like hearing all this heavy shit with children, adaption, and growing up, "while we, grown ups, have to get used to it."

"This isn't the world," Michonne insisted, "This isn't it."

Beth snorted, "There is no going back from this, Michonne," she said, "This _is_ the world. Even if we reached to D.C., it won't be any different than here."

Rick gave them a look then, wandering his eyes at each of them. "Maybe it's, maybe it isn't, we don't know," he told them basically what he'd told before they had decided to look for the wolves, too, "But this's our reality until we do." He paused, as if to make his words much clearer, "Until then this is _what_ we have to live with."

Rick then started recounting a tale, "When I was a kid, I asked my grandpa once if he ever killed any Germans in the war." He paused for a second before he continued, "He wouldn't answer. He said that was grown-up stuff, so I asked if the Germans ever tried to kill him. But he got real quiet. He said he was dead the minute he stepped into enemy territory. Every day he woke up and told himself, 'Rest in peace. Now get up, and go to war.' And then after a few years of pretending he was dead, he made it out alive."

Rick's eyes found them again, fire glinting in the depths, and Daryl understood the point even before Rick continued, and it felt wrong… something seizing in his chest, and he found himself looking at Beth as she listened to Rick carefully. "That's the trick of it, I think," Rick went on, "We do what we need to do, and then we get to live. But no matter what we find in D.C., I know we'll be okay, because this is how we survive." He paused, "We tell ourselves that _we_ are the walking dead."

_We look like them… _And he remembered Beth's limp form in his arms as he held her pulse, and then her slashed forearm from the wrist up to the elbow. Daryl shot up from his post. "Nah…" he shook his head, "We ain't them…" he told Rick, his voice turning sterner, and he leaned down, waving his arm at the man, "We _ain't_ them."

He turned around and started walking away. His insides were raging, another storm was raging inside him. They weren't dead…not yet, not yet...

He paced down and forth at the wooden doors, his hand holding the crossbow, snapshots passing through his mind…he fucking hated it, he fucking _hated_ all of it… then he heard her voice, "Daryl."

He turned around and looked at her. She walked to him slowly, and outside another lighting stuck and lightened inside the barn through the cracks of the wooden walls, and she looked like a goddess walking to her—moonlight and lighting shining over her figure… she stopped and held his hand, and turned his hand upward, opening his palm, revealing the veins and scars over his wrist.

She traced the lines with her fingers, feeling her pulse and she raised it up and kissed it, kissed his pulse—"We might look like them, but we aren't them," she said, still holding his wrist below her lips, "Not yet."

He grabbed her, hauling her up in his arms, and spinning them around, he pushed her in a dark corner at the door he knew out of the sight, his lips already in her mouth, driven mad with hunger, desire and fear, fear of losing her—and she was there, just against him—pressed on him, her heart beating fast against his—her hand still around his wrist, and he could not just have enough of her…

He dropped her on her feet and started unbuttoning her jeans as she started doing the same. She kicked them down off quickly as he took her waist and raised her up again. "Legs—around my hip," he roughed out, barely containing himself, and he knew he had to stop, this shouldn't be with Beth, but he couldn't stop…he just couldn't… He had to take her…he had to make her _his_… He needed this. She wrapped her legs around him as she was told, and he pushed her underwear aside and slammed into her in one swift motion, hard and straight. He placed his hand over her mouth so that her yelp wouldn't be heard, even over the raging storm—because he knew she had screamed, she was still so tight…so inexperienced for going rough like this, but he just couldn't help it… Holding her tightly against the door, he drove in her, in and out, he drove her, hard and fast, as fast as he could get until she couldn't do anything else than holding on him tightly as he pounded her in a frenzy, his lips tasting, biting, scratching, and he was like an animal—a raging, grunting, groaning animal—fucking Beth Greene hard and rough against a damn door in a fucking barn, just a few yards away from others, his hand covering her mouth, and he had never felt more alive all in his life before.

His groins were hot, coiling, and the world was tightening inside him, he felt nearing to the end, and as his mind turning, he bit her neck hard, and spilled himself in her, coming shuttering.

When the word settled back in, he slipped off and she slipped off of his arms too, and he rested his forehead on her shoulder, still trembling, but he wasn't sure of what… "I'm sorry, Beth," he mumbled out, spent and drained, "I'm so sorry."

But instead of kicking his ass like he'd deserved, she just hugged him back. "It's okay, Daryl, it's okay. I'm _still_ not dead."

He laughed bitterly, "You deserve more than this," he said, his head still on her shoulder.

"I'm not complaining."

He lifted his head up, "You should," he told her then as he bent down and pulled her jeans back on her again, and buttoned her up. He tidied himself too, trying not to think of how he'd come inside her, then he groaned inwardly. Beth seemed like missing that bit.

"Well—still not complaining," she told him, "So get over it." She rested himself over him, and gave him a smile, "It wasn't that bad, either. I—even _enjoyed_ it."

He squinted at her, she smiled further, "I love you whole, Daryl Dixon," she said then, "This and that, _whole_ _package_."

Lost wordless, Daryl stared at her back, as she smiled even bigger.

* * *

_A/N: Hurray, for the first "I love you" :) I didn't want sex be explicit, not my cup of tea, but to express a state of mind-you know, have a meaning beside the mechanics. Hope it was tasteful. _

_Like you must already guess, I enjoy very much writing Rick and Amanda, too, I hope you enjoy reading them too. In Alexandria, their parts will get even heavier, I guess, as Rick is...uh...sort of loosing his shit at Alexandria._

_So the next we will Aaron, I think!_

_Until then!_


	25. Chapter 25

_A/N: Hello! Happy merry Christmas and new year to all! Hope the holiday is passing good. I've been a busy bee, and finished almost three chapters as I'm at home too, and I realized I need to go ahead and plan things a bit more detailed as we've coming to Alexandria. Hope you're still with me, no one reviewed the last chapter, and it was a bit of a let down as the reason why I update regularly is because I enjoy hearing from you as I'm writing. Usually, I just upload many chapters in one go after I finished writing. So please, if you're still reading, let me know!_

_Cheers, and have a nice holiday!_

XXV.

"We do what we need to do, then we get to live," Rick said.

The words almost brought a bitter snort out of her, but Amanda kept it inside, bowing her head. All of her life she'd been doing what needed to be done, but she was still waiting for getting to live part. It never ended, never, the world or life hadn't changed on that front very much. It always found new lemons to throw at her face, and Amanda _hated_ lemonades.

Unless…it got some healthy dosage of alcohol. Amanda had never been much for drinking, drinking away from the problems had always seemed to her something for quitters, and Amanda was never a quitter. She enjoyed drinks, she'd been particularly happy to have Dawn's flask after she'd gotten at her place, but still she wasn't a quitter. Though, every girl needed a drink once in a while, and they all did stupid things sometimes… Her eyes skipped to Abraham, but she turned them away— She didn't want to have another episode with Rick, and well it _was_ stupid, and Amanda was never stupid.

_But_ it was the end of the fucking world, and she was lost in the wilderness—and she was fucking depressed, she'd watched another person she knew blow her face off at _her_ face, and she _still_ got brain pieces inside her hair…

She deserved a bit of stupid!

But as good as it felt having Rick's aggressive protectiveness for her sake, and it had—she had to admit, it'd made weird things in her stomach even when she got threatened by a ripped off throat, she really didn't want to upset him more. He'd been already having too much shit. Amanda didn't want to make things shittier. Shoot her, she was being considerate.

She didn't know what they were exactly now, she was just going along with him—and aside a few gentle gestures and nice moments, and being a general jerk to her like always, Rick didn't seem to know about it much either.

He hadn't even kissed her again after that quick kiss when she'd asked him if they would try to find it out—he was too busy with staying alive, keeping everyone alive, or maybe he was trying to take things slow this time, Amanda didn't know. She tried not to dwell on it much, she was too busy with staying alive the same, and whenever she needed him, even when she was being stupid drinking her ass off, he was always there, so it was…enough.

In fact, it was more than enough, it was the first time she felt…like…she had someone, someone protecting her ass other than herself, but she tried not to dwell on that, too.

It was just that it never ended, the "get to live" part never came…there was always this and that, this thing or another, and the other…it never fucking ended now. Whitney had been right, this world now belonged to the dead, and they were just stealing a day off from the inevitable everyday-

"But no matter _what_ we find in D.C., I know we'll be okay, because this is how we survive," Rick continued, and she turned her head to him again, "We tell ourselves that _we_ are the walking dead."

The words almost made Amanda cry, because like always the damn man was right again. Sometimes it felt like something had died inside them, inside the humanity. She'd never had much hope in mankind anyways, even before the turn, but when the civilization had come undone, most people had turned to animals, with a mind only to survive, themselves including. Though, there were still worse than them, she told herself, remembering Gorman, remembering what Rick had told her, remembering what she had saw herself… They were still better than _them_, and it wasn't a happy thought, either.

The words made Daryl angered somehow as he pointed his arm at Rick in objection and hissed out, "We ain't them—" He shook his head, "We ain't them."

Amanda respected his diligence of keeping his hopes up, too. She wondered if it was anything regarding Beth, and who she was kidding— of course it was about her. Beth had a power to turn anyone to a hopeful idiot, herself coming at the second line just after the Daryl Dixon.

Daryl left, storming away with anger, and Beth followed. Amanda rested her head against the wooden wall, and dreamed off showers. Then she remembered they'd found Palmer at the shower too after he'd blown his brain off, and she shook her head to clear the image away, and felt tears pricking at her eyes…

She was fucking hating…everything! She just hated everything, even _living_ at the moment. Michonne stood up, leaving them too, not neglecting giving them a biting look in the meantime. She had no idea how the Afro-American woman must have felt right now. Amanda had basically ruined her happy post-apocalyptic paradise, not that she would have cared _even_ things were different.

The others scattered at each side of the barn to pass the night. Soon it remained only her and Rick, Carl sleeping beside them in front of the fire, Judith next to him, and it made her feel…she didn't know…secluded…like a family, She drove the thought away like she'd been doing for the last week, no need to get carried away, not letting herself to think how easily these thoughts had started to surface out of her mind—and she didn't have any fucking idea why—okay, she had a very good idea of why, but she tried not to dwell on it, either, they were trying to survive here—but maybe, maybe when.. If… they would ever get to the living part…then she could…perhaps think…? Inwardly, she snorted and smiled bitterly. Here again, Amanda Shepherd, being the hopeful idiot.

Sighing, she lifted her head up from the wooden wall and pulled her legs at her chest, but somehow still asked, hugging her knees. "Do you mean it, Rick?"

Rick turned to her. "The walking dead?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No. We do what we need to do, then we get to live part," she answered, "Do you really believe it? Because that's the exact thing what I've been doing for _years_, but I'm still waiting to get to the living part." She paused, and looked at Rick as he watched her, "It just never ends."

His eyes were clear blue, keen and searching, searching through her, making her feel as if she was naked in front of him, transparent, and he could see through all. A tremor passed over her. "It only ends when we die, Amanda," he then said somberly.

"How ironic," she said slowly with a little snort, another small bitter smile on her lips, because it wasn't ending _even_ then now. "I'm fucking hat—" she started, but this time he cut her off before she could finish it.

"So I am, Amanda," he said, sighing, "I'm fucking hating it too."

Then at that moment Amanda had a revelation. There was no lightness coming at her, no divine moment or anything, it was a shit moment like most of her life, a storm raging outside, horseshit smelling inside, herself smelling worse than horseshit outside, and brain pieces decorating inside her tangled hair, and in that shit moment, Amanda understood she might very well fall in love with Rick Grimes.

She should have felt scared, she should have run away, but she was so damn tired she couldn't find energy even to move her finger. She rested her head at the wall again, feeling the wooden surface against her scalp—and her hair was itching but she was…afraid to scratch it… She raised her hand up and looked at it… how dirty it was—how dirty it had become… "I've done so many things to get to live," she turned her head aside to give him a look, lowering her hand, "Sometimes I fear my hands would never come clean."

"We all did," Rick told him back, then gave her a heavy look, "But every day is a new day," Rick then said.

Amanda held his look, and only said back, "So get up, and go to war."

In answer, he leaned in toward her, and kissed her.

One moment he was on her, kissing her gently, the next he pushed her down on the ground on her back and climbed on her. His hands moved to her belt and he started unbuckling her. "We shouldn't do this—" he said though, just tearing his lips off of her lips, moving them over to her neck.

"Why?" she gasped out. Why, indeed. She just wanted him so much sometimes it scared her, too.

"There're people… Carl…" Rick roughed out, his lips tracing over her jaw.

She drew in a silent breath as he sucked a delicate spot under her jawline, her fingers tightening on his shoulders. "Sleeping…" she pointed out, moaning on the word.

"We—we should take it slow—" he said, but his lips took a bit at her neck, and she bit her lips not to moan loudly.

She craned her neck and her eyes found him. "Two weeks aren't enough slow for you, Rick?" she asked, looking directly in his eyes, "Do you want _us_ to stop?"

His eyes darkened further, and in answer he arched himself up to unzipped his pants with one hand and warned as she moved her legs around his calves, tugging her feet in, "_Keep_ _quiet_."

# # #

_Whole package…_

_I love you whole, Daryl Dixon… This and that, whole package…_

_Whole package…_

Words turned in his mind in a whirlwind… whole package… I love you whole, Daryl Dixon… whole package, like an unending ribbon of words, a forgotten chant that Beth had just buried out_. I love you whole._

_Fuck off!_

"Uh—Daryl—" Beth then said, watching him warily, "Are you okay?" she asked tentatively. _What? _"I mean—" Beth continued, "It's obvious that you…love me, too."

He couldn't help himself, "Is it?" the words left his mouth and he wanted to kick himself.

Beth straightened her shoulders, pushing her back in a dignified manner, but there was a knowing look in her eyes, and her face was relaxed, "I don't suppose you ran after the cars in the middle of the night at the apocalypse for sports, Daryl."

"Hmm—" he grunted out, "I—fuck!" he exclaimed again, but Beth smiled, shaking her head.

"Shut up, and kiss me, idiot," she said back, walking to him closer and lifted her head up for an invitation.

Without further ado, Daryl obliged. It seemed like the best damn thing to do… _I love you, too,_ passed in his mind, but he couldn't turn it into the words. He'd never told it to anyone before. Even when he knew he loved her more than he could think of just the idea of saying the words out loud seemed impossible like he didn't know how to speak and he was more than glad to see that Beth was aware of it. She loved him whole. Even when he was nothing but a beast, devouring her just like that, against a dirty wooden wall in a dirty barn, but still Beth loved him. It made him feel worthy, wanted him to be worthy of her, her love, her belief, her trust in him. She'd accepted him whole, the good and the bad parts.

Breaking the kiss, he moved his head aside, resting it on the crook of her shoulder, he hugged her, and she hugged back, too, and it was even more intimidate than having sex that way, just holding each other, being completely open to each other, but whole.

"I love you, too, Beth," he then whispered at her, "This and that, whole."

As she kissed his temple tilting her head down, Daryl felt her lips, a gentle, soft caress against his skin. He didn't know how long they stood there like that, he couldn't even hear the storm raging now, it was getting quiet, and faint sunlight had started seizing through the creaks. "The sun is coming up," Beth breathed in his ear, "It's a new day," she said. Wordlessly, he nodded at her shoulder, "Let's go and watch the sunrise," Beth then said, tugging at his hand.

He pulled back as she spun around slowly and dragged them out. Outside the barn was almost closed by the fallen trees from the booming storm, and there were dead bodies around the barn impaled by fallen logs, whether it was a miracle or not, Daryl wasn't sure.

Carefully Beth treaded through the scene, still dragging him behind, not that Daryl would need any incentive to do it, he wanted to follow her, he wanted to go up there and watched the sunrise her with her, a new day. It was something he'd never done, even the notion of doing such a thing was absurd, watching the dawn with a girl like in a high school romance, but Daryl found himself wanting it, wanting to experience it with Beth, because it was different now, because they were different now, and because she was special. She was the most special person to him all in the world. She was the woman he loved.

They found a ridge of a stone hill where the forest waned off a sudden cliff, and they sat on a large stone under a tree and watched the dawn as the rising sun painted the sky with golden and red, a mystical hue through the clouds, and Beth's hand were still tugged into his, and her head were at his shoulder, staring at the horizon, then she sighed slowly, long but serene. "It's beautiful," she lifted her eyes up at him, "don't you think?"

Yes, it was beautiful; she with the sunrise was the most marvelous sight he had ever seen. He closed the inch between them and answered her with a kiss, gently pressing his lips on hers. She hummed contently against his lips like she always did whenever she enjoyed herself—and she enjoyed very much being kissed that way, slow and tender, and Daryl was enjoying kissing her like that too much, as well, slow and tender, bashing in every moment, memorizing every little noises she made, cataloguing every little gesture, and she was his, and he was hers…. They belonged to each other.

Beth broke the kiss, and smiled at him, resting her forehead on his. His fingers crept up to her wrist, and he held her purse, slowly beating under his fingertips… He closed his eyes. They weren't them. They weren't dead.

He opened his eyes… then caught with the corner of his eyes something he'd missed before, a disturbed ground over the foliage on the ground next to the stone they had sat down—and he pulled back like stringed bow, his back stiffing.

Fuck! How he had missed it! It was so fucking obvious to him, he couldn't understand how he had overlooked the sight…

"Daryl…?" Beth was looking at him questionably as he stared at the broken, bent leaves beside him and as his eyes recognized the grey dust on the leaves too, ash.

"Someone had camped here last night," he explained, roughing the words gruff with sudden anger. This was…this was bad. Being like this was bad. It was no use to anyone, it was no use to _her_. He'd brought her to the danger with his own hands, failing to recognize the signs, being a damn moron once again…opening the doors without checking out first. "Look, here—" He pointed at it with his head, taking the crossbow from where he'd rested it beside him at the stone, he went to inspect it.

Beth's eyes followed him then she stood up and joined him. "Two people," Daryl said, crouched on the ground, reading the signs. It was cold and storm had almost erased whole prints, but he'd managed to read that much. It belonged at least before the evening, he estimated, before the storm got heavy and they had forced to leave. The ridge had offered them a protective retreat with cavelike structure at the cliff, trees over them, but after the storm had gotten heavier they would need to find another shelter. He saw a can of pasta, too, resting just beside the camp, thrown away empty.

He sprung back on his feet, and grabbed Beth's hand. "Come, we're returning—" He tugged at her, "Quick."

But Beth's eyes stayed focused ahead, and Daryl followed her gaze again, then watched as Beth went and picked up something at the other side, something he hadn't first seen, a broken empty jar, almost empty with a slight yellowish thick mush at the bottom. Beth brought it up toward her nose and sniffed. Then diving her pinkies inside it, she tasted it.

Daryl frowned, but she lifted her eyes at him after a second, and declared, It's apple jelly." She paused, "Newly made."

# # #

Judith had woken up crying. Rick raised his head from where he was sleeping, and started rising up. His baby girl was always crying now, and Rick knew it was from hunger, last night he'd fed her with acorns mushed with water. He started standing up, pulling his hand off where it'd somehow found itself on Amanda's hip as she lay on her side a few inches from his chest after they were done and rolled into the sleep. He really needed to keep his hand off to himself, that was no time for that, they had been trying to find out, yes, and he needed to take things slow and focused on what was important, staying alive, but it was getting hard to resist, and he hadn't wanted to _stop_. _So get up, and go to the war._ She'd said it, and he had wanted to kiss her, just kiss her, lightly, a small token of affection and shared understanding, and hardship, but then ended up finding himself climbing over her again.

As he walked to Judith, he tossed at a glance around, wondering if anyone had heard them last night, she'd kept _quiet_, biting his neck hard as she came, silencing her screams, and he did the same in return while he did. Sex was a wild thing with her, like a fight, and Rick wondered if it always was with her, or she was just like this with him because of the nature of their antagonistic relation, but again she never was a…_soft_ person. _I even asked for it._

He grumbled out, taking Judith into his arms, he shouldn't worry about this stuff, he should worry about Judith, his baby girl who was crying with hunger, it was no time for this. Rick titled his head up and looked at the baby's eyes, still red, and his face turned sterner, thoughts of Amanda and sex vanishing…

Goddammit, he was failing again, all the people he cared, all the people who needed him, his own children at the beginning. He needed to find food, he needed to find shelter, a place for them.

And it was a new day. _So get up, and go to war._

He started walking toward Carol as she slept at other side of the barn with Tyreese and Sasha. Tyreese's condition was getting worse too, and he needed medical attention but he was still holding up. Then a small voice from his back stopped him. "Rick?" Amanda called out, and he turned aside to give her a look over his shoulder, and when Amanda saw his expression, she grimaced, standing up from the ground. "Is she okay?" she asked, looking at crying Judith.

"She's hungry," Rick answered as she walked to him, "I'm gonna out and try to find something to eat."

She nodded then stopped, giving him a look, then let out a small sigh, extending her arms to him, "Okay. Give her to me. I look after her."

But Rick shook his head, something holding him back. "It's okay, I'll ask Carol," he told her.

Seeing his reluctance, her grimace grew more, "Carol was the last watch. She's still sleeping. I can—"

"I'll wake up Carl."

She looked at her hard, "You don't trust me with her."

Rick stared at her back, "You don't seem liking babies a lot," he said plainly.

"I don't," Amanda then accepted as plainly as he was, looking at the slowly crying Judith, but then said like it was the end of the discussion, "But she's _yours_."

And he just wanted to kiss her again, the damn woman…he just wanted to… he didn't know what he wanted to… and it was driving him crazy, she was driving him crazy… all of her tests, snorts, smiles, jabs, drinks, but then she said things like this… But it was _still_ Judith. He didn't move.

Amanda let out a loaded sigh, bowing her head. "In foster homes the big children are supposed to take care of the babies the most of the times," she then stated a few seconds later, lifting her head up and looked at him, "I most probably know how to take care of babies better than anyone here, Rick."

Foster homes… _Shit!_

But it…made sense a bit more now, the way she was, and he knew she was sharing with him now too...opening herself up, so he should do the same… but somehow his arms still didn't move… then she said, "Don't you trust me?"

Trust her? He wanted her to trust _him_, but did he really trust her? Rick recalled what Beth had said, how she didn't know to trust, but they could trust her first, the way _his_ distrust hurt her, and how she felt when Whitney had killed herself, like…a failure… In answer, Rick gave her Judith.

In silence, she took Judith, hopping her into her arms as Judith was whining with little cries, then smiled at him softly. "She's still a lucky girl, Rick," she said.

"How?" Rick asked, but he could never believe any children who had born into this being lucky, what Abraham had said was true on the survival, they were going to be easily adapted to this world, but what Michonne had said was still true, too, this _wasn't_ the world. It couldn't be.

"She's got a father like you," Amanda said though, "She's lucky."

At that, Rick faintly smiled, and touched at her cheek lightly as she hopped Judith in her embrace, but didn't correct her that he _wasn't_ the father, because it didn't matter. Rick understood what she meant.

He turned around and started walking out, but before he reached to the door, Daryl and Beth entered, pushing the winged doors inside open. "We found a lead," Beth exclaimed, looking at him, "We found people."

# # #

"Two people had camped somewhere close to here last night," Daryl explained as they sat around in a circle, telling the others what they had found out there, "We found their camp at the ridge of the hill."

Beth couldn't still believe it, but she knew sooner or later their luck would turn again, and it was a new day, and it was always the darkest before the dawn. They had survived the storm. They weren't dead, not yet. "There're still tracks," he continued, "The storm disturbed much of them, but I can still read 'em."

"And there was no sight of butchery, too," Beth added, "and we found a can of pasta, and this—" Beth showed them, rising the half broken jar inside her hand. When she'd saw it, hope had resurfaced inside Beth, "Apple jelly. Someone made them recently. It tastes still new."

"How do you know?" Rosita asked, skepticism clear in her voce.

Beth opened her mouth but it was Maggie who had answered the Latin woman, "We had apple trees in the farm. We used to make apple jelly with Mom."

That answered the question, but then Michonne said, "Maybe they're just lost in the wild like us."

"Maybe…but maybe they're from a place…or know a place we could try…"

"And maybe they got more people out in the woods, too, with guns," Rick shot back in return.

"_Maybe_…_maybe_…_maybe_…" Amanda said, imitating them frustration tinting her tone, "I'm sick of maybes," she continued, "We know nothing, just as you keep telling _us_, Rick," she said, "So maybe we just should go and _find out_."

And Rick turned aside to give her a look, but it wasn't a glare as he usually did, it was a semi-glare weighted with something else, too… Beth wondered what had happened last night between them, because it looked like something had happened again, not a necessarily bad thing, either as they weren't sending each other killer glares. Beth had noticed the small, affectionate gesture they'd been sharing on the road, little touches and quick looks, but _this_ was something else.

"She's right," Carol said then, holding Judith, trying to hush the baby, "She needs that apple jelly, Rick."

That made Rick cave in. He looked at his baby girl, and Beth knew the baby was eating that awful acorn mush since yesterday and she couldn't keep up going on like this. She didn't know if those people would share theirs with a hungry little baby, but they would try at least, they were still good people out there—people who wouldn't let a baby…suffer hunger if they could help. Beth wanted to believe that.

Rick's face told it all, too. Judith needed that apple jelly, and Judith was going to get it, one way or another. Then suddenly Beth found herself not caring, either. They would ask nicely, but if they refused… no, anyone who would let a baby…die of hunger didn't survive this world, either.

It was a revelation she found in herself, realizing that it was just like that, and she wouldn't lose any sleep over it. The world wouldn't lose anything if it lost those kinds of men.

This world didn't belong to dead, not yet.

"Abraham, you and Rosita go check around, we need to make sure if they were other people out there," Rick then said, looking at the ex-military sergeant, then tuned to Glenn, "Glenn, we need watches," he ordered, "At every point. There're are so many open points here. I go with Daryl, we'll track the signs—" He turned to Michonne, "Michonne, you're with me—" then his eyes turned to Amanda, and he momentarily halted—

But Amanda spoke before he did, "I'm coming with you," she said, standing up, her eyebrows drawn a bit.

Giving her silent look, Rick nodded wordlessly, and as they started moving out, Beth suddenly realized that she was being left behind! Anger found her. It was her plan, it was _always_ her plan, she'd found the jar, but somehow it was always she who had left behind, like—like she was a child. She jolted up at her feet. "I'm coming with you, too!"

Daryl spun on his heel, giving her a hard look, but pretended not to notice. "No," he rasped out.

She didn't listen to him, "Yes. I'm coming. _I_ found the jar."

His rasp turned to a full growl, "Beth—"

"Daryl—" Beth cut him off, but Amanda cut her off, too.

"She's right," the older woman said, "We need her," she told Daryl and Rick, "She's good with people in a way we aren't." Beth didn't know what to think of that, she was good with people, yes, but Amanda was also very good with talking into people, too, even _better_ than her, perhaps. She then smiled at Daryl and Rick, throwing Beth a side look, "She convinced me to play nice at the hospital. She might convince them, too."

In return, Beth smiled back at her. _Thank you._

# # #

They followed Daryl stepping carefully through the woods with light feet, Beth at his side, Amanda following close, and Rick and Michonne at their six, something Amanda found herself getting pissed, even though she knew it _was_ stupid.

Rick and Michonne was a good team, they'd been doing this perhaps over a year now, she understood, but she wasn't liking it. She didn't _hate_ it, though, so she guessed that was something. Was she jealous? She didn't know. She'd never been jealous before…of a man. But she knew of the feeling, of course, there was a lot of things a little orphan girl would get jealous while growing up, but luckily what she felt now wasn't anything like this…no, it was like a sort of disturbance, like…like an annoying fly wheezing over your ear, irritating like hell, bothering you, but…not harmful, and seeing them together was exactly like that too…bothersome…

God, she was so tired—she couldn't even think properly now, but instead thinking about stuff she never should _bother_ herself to begin with it—well, at least she was the one who had bit Rick's neck twice while coming.

A tremor passed over her, remembering the last night, then she remembered the morning as well, how she ended up asking Judith, surprising even herself. Amanda had passed a good of her first teenager years looking after the minors. In the foster homes the old usually took care of the little ones, and Amanda had been hating it, the baby cries, the long nights, and the feel of helplessness when she couldn't stop the baby cries—not understanding what was the problem, the fear if she did something wrong and hurt the babies… and what if they sent her to correction centers too, she'd heard the tales, they were always used to be sent to correction facilities if they'd misbehaved, if they weren't good girls… Baby cries always made her remember those times, that helplessness and fear, and she hated remembering those times, but... Rick looked pretty helpless looking at the crying baby, too, and Amanda shocked herself opening her mouth to tell him she would look after her.

Something definitely was going on with her, or she was losing her mind, she didn't know. Because it also disturbed her seeing him holding back—as if he still couldn't trust her, even when she had slipped off knowingly she'd grown up in foster homes. She never tried to hide it anyways, it always came up in one way or another, and she didn't like looking like she was _deliberately_ hiding it. She had no problems with telling it Beth, but as she started getting to understand, Rick _was_ different.

And she really hoped the people they were looking for were good, because she knew Judith was going to get his apple jelly one way or another, too, she was a lucky girl that way, having a father like that, but Amanda would like seeing things not blowing out of proportion.

Beth still believed there were good people in the world, and Amanda would really want to share her belief, but then…she had never been a believer all that much, especially in goodness of mankind. Rick looked like the same, too, wariness and prospect of violence emitting out of his every pore, and if those people were anything smart, they would play nice.

Her eyes moved to Beth for a second, and seriously wished that whoever those people were they would enough to convince them…play nice. Rick was getting hard to contain, and Beth was good with people in a way she never would be, open and honest. They all could be open and honest, but none of them had Beth's doelike clear blue eyes, instead they all had wary, critical eyes, sending off the wrong message, or the right message depending on the occasion, but they didn't fucking know the occasion, so Beth needed to come, and Daryl needed to cool off his protectiveness, as well, but that was another matter.

The matter was Amanda wanted Rick stay…coolheaded. A leader always should stay intact and focused, coolheaded, even though she didn't exactly sure if it was the only reason now. All in frankness, she was getting really scared of asking further… her revelation still nagging into her mind… and this…this was the fucking worst time to fall in love with _anyone_.

Nope, best not to dwell on it, just keep him intact and…in one piece. The rest, they would see.

They didn't see anyone or a threat for an hour as Daryl followed the tracks, then they suddenly came out of the woods, and found two vehicles, one RV, and an old red station wagon blocked on the road with fallen trees.

They started running towards it. "The storm must have blocked their ways—" Daryl said, but Amanda shook her head. It didn't make sense, even if the vehicles were out of commission, why the hell they left it—into a storm…making suck-ass camps. Rick halted them with his fist hand up in the hair as they neared to the vehicles, and they stopped.

Their guns were at their hands, expect Michonne, who was standing with her katana at Rick's other side, then Rick pointed at the left with his head, and when Amanda saw the walkers coming at them the reasons why they had left the vehicles had become a bit clearer.

They killed the upcoming killers without a fuss, it was only six of them, and it made Amanda question the fighting abilities of the people they were looking for—clearly they would have taken out six walkers…three at one, not exactly bad odds. Not good either, and apparently, they didn't want to risk it, either.

Cautiously, Rick opened the RV's door and peeked inside. Turning aside, he pointed at Daryl and her, and twisted his hand in the air pointing at the other side. Amanda didn't understand the point of secrecy anymore, they had made enough voice outside clearing off the walkers to make known that anyone around that they weren't alone anymore, and she didn't also understand why she had to go with Daryl as Michonne stayed with _him_, but she shooed the thought away off her mind like shooing away a _fly _and followed Daryl instead.

Beth followed them too, and they circled the RV and come back from the other back door, and they stepped in as Rick checked the driver's seat at the front.

It was all clear and they were alone, and it was—bloody hell! They'd hit the jackpot!

Cans of pasta, beans, and fruits… there was even _granola… _good lord, she couldn't even remember the last time she'd eaten granola, she wanted to cry. There were also two small jars of apple jelly too, the same jars Beth had found.

Rick nodded at Daryl. "Daryl, check the gas," Rick asked, "Are these still running?"

Daryl nodded and turned back, slightly touching at Beth's side before he stepped down and went to the front side as they started packing up their founds. This new world was a world of finder keepers, and Amanda tried not to dwell on it much, either.

They were all looters now, and Judith was going to stop crying from hunger, so Amanda wasn't whining—instead she was smiling… She turned and looked for Rick—then saw him sharing a smile with Michonne as they looked at each other. She snapped back her head, her insides suddenly twisting—something coiling in her stomach… a voice inside her mind snickering _fool…_

She slapped the cupboard's lid forcefully, making Beth almost jump as Rick and Michonne turned to look at her, the smiles vanishing off their faces. She ignored the looks, sliding her backpack over her shoulders and stepped out of the van, Rick's squinted eyes at her back, she could _feel_.

She really didn't need to deal with this.

Outside she took in a breath, inhaling deeply, and heard light footsteps too, following her outside—footsteps too light to be neither Rick nor Michonne; Beth.

"Beth—I'm fine—" she started but then stopped in half, and she pulled out her gun.

Two figures were approaching them from the tree lines. "Get down on the ground," she shouted with her police voice, with the years of practice the words almost coming out of her automatically.

Two men—two good looking—two clean—a way too clean for this fucking nightmarish world looked at her—one was limping as the other supported him over his should—and they were both looking at her with widened eyes.

She repeated, "On the ground now." They lowered themselves down on their knees on the ground as Rick rushed out of the RV his gun at his hand, Daryl came running from the other side too, "Hands at the neck!"

They followed her order again, tying their hands at the back of their neck. Rick walked toward them, inspecting them closely, his eyes drawn together as he noticed the clean clothes… "Who are you people?" he growled out at them.

"We—we can explain—" the one without the limp started talking, "My—my name is Aaron, and this's Eric. We-we're friends. We're here to help."

All of them shared a look, as Rick's frown turned into a glower, "Help?"

"Yes…" the man named himself Aaron answered, looking at Rick's eyes directly, "We're here to help you…Rick."

In answer, Rick raised his gun and pointed it at his temple, "Who the hell are _you_?"

Well, too much to stay coolheaded…


	26. Chapter 26

_A/N: Updating two chapters at once. And, Liasonfan, this is for you. Thank you for the support :)_

XXVI.

"I know—it's hard to accept—" the man started again rested against the RV, but Rick silenced him with a pointed finger, _"Shut up." _No, it couldn't be true. The world didn't work like that now.

It sounded too good to be true, and Rick could still remember all too well what had happened last time when they'd gone to something sounding too good to be true. No… he couldn't let another Terminus happen to them, another Governor coming for them.

Alexandria.

Rick looked at the man again. Their clothes were still clean, no stains or dirt or tears over them, their hair were cropped as if by an expert, there were no beards over their face, hell, even their nails were clean. _Terminus_, his mind screamed at him.

"Do you honestly expect us to believe that you're _only_ out here looking for people to join you into your too perfect for words community?" Amanda asked, walking closer to the man, agitated and frustrated, "_Seriously_?"

"Yes," the man answered mildly.

Rick had to hand it to the man; he knew how to keep himself cool. There weren't many men who would keep his head cool in front of a seething Amanda Shepherd, _himself_ including. She'd gotten somehow annoyed even before this thing with the strangers had happened, leaving the van with slapping the cupboards' lid furiously, and now she looked like she wanted to tear off some heads. Rick wondered for a second what had gotten her riled this time—they were just being friendly this morning after the last night…now this… Rick grimaced.

He turned his eyes to the man, and nailed him a hard state, "Why, what's your angle?"

"We have limited resources now—"

"And you're ready to share 'em with strangers?" Daryl asked, cutting him off where he rested against the RV's side, next to the man's companion, Eric. Beth was at his side too, crouched at Eric's side, checking out his ankle. The redheaded man was worse to wear, his face covered with sweat, flushed red with pain. They'd claimed that Eric had hurt his leg during the storm last night, trying to running from walkers that attacked the vehicles.

They'd been following them almost a week now, Aaron had explained, while Amanda had taken his gun as they stood hands at their necks. They'd gone to the stone ridge too so they could introduce themselves, but when they'd seen them looking for them, understanding they were exposed they'd decided to turn back to the vehicles, but got caught again.

Rick was still finding it too hard to believe, as the others, except Michonne. Michonne had an expression over at her face, suspicious, wary but still intrigued. She was intrigued, and Rick didn't know if he liked it.

"Yes, I know how it sounds now, but, one is much more limited than the others," Aaron answered, "Good and capable people. We need people, good and capable people to survive."

"Howddya know we're one of your those good people?" Daryl questioned further.

"It's my job," Aaron answered, checking out his friend with the corner of his eyes as Beth probed the foot, "I saw you on the road, we've been watching you—" Rick grimaced further. What annoyed him further wasn't only being followed but also failing it. They'd been so miserable, they hadn't realized it—realized that they'd been followed by these two…amateurs. "You help each other—even under the worst condition, you never turn on each other." His eyes swept to Amanda for a second, "And when—when that old woman killed herself we saw—"

Amanda flinched like someone had hit her—her mouth twitched, her back stiffening—"I didn't mean—I know—"

Rick didn't let him finish the sentence off. He turned back and walked to man, and punched him right at his face.

"Rick!" Michonne exclaimed, giving him a hard look, but he didn't fucking care.

He gestured at Daryl. "Take him inside, secure him. We're going back. We need to talk about it."

Giving him another look, Michonne went to the other man. "Move. Up," she ordered at him firmly, holding him at his upper arm and pushed him inside the caravan. Daryl stuffed the unconscious man inside too, and got to the driver seat as Beth slipped next to his side at the passenger seat.

Rick walked to the station wagon, nudging at Amanda too. "You're with me," he ordered.

Without a word, she followed him.

Inside the car, he started driving for the barn. They would drive until the last path then would make it on feet, hiding the vehicles. Either way, the vehicles wouldn't stay there for long. They were going to leave soon.

Amanda gave him a look, twisting her head, "It feels like a trap. Do you think it's?" she asked.

Rick shook his head, "Even if it wasn't, I'm not inclined to risk it," Rick said, "But they need to hear it."

Amanda gave him a look, "Why? They—we all will follow you at the end."

His eyes skipped from the road for a second, and he gave her a look. Sometimes she spoke so plain, so honest, but so _heavy_, each time he was taken aback. "They need to hear it, know the risks." He paused, "I'm their leader, Amanda. This isn't a democracy, but I'm not their tyrant, either."

Her eyes found his, too, and they shared a look, and she smiled at him, not one of those annoying ones with a derisive edge, but a small warm, kind one, "You're really one of a kind, Rick Grimes, has anyone ever told you that?"

He smiled back, returning to the road, "What do you think then?" he asked to her.

"Just what you say," she shrugged, "We don't know. We don't know anything now. Maybe they're what they say, maybe they aren't. There's only way to find out."

_One way to find out… _He wanted to kiss her so badly again, he had to grip the wheel tighter in his hands, "We could try Washington, too," he said, "We have food and vehicles now."

"We don't know about that, either," she shot back, "One or another, it's all the same," she repeated his words, "I just want to…be safe." Rick nodded solemnly, but couldn't bring himself to say her there was nowhere safe anymore, but he didn't need to, either. She already knew it. They were never safe now. Something broke in him, because he realized Amanda had probably never felt it, never felt safe enough to trust anyone, always wary, always depending on herself—always at the edge. Like Daryl, she was a hedgehog, driving her quills out to bite anyone who dared to approach, but at the same time craving for the contact—caring and feeling responsible, Rick had seen her with Whitney.

"Amanda," Rick asked, because he wanted to know—because they were trying to find out, "Why did you get mad at RV?"

His sudden question caught her by surprise as she snapped her face at him, looking startled. Then staring at him, the corner of her mouth turned down, and he _realized_ he'd pissed her off again. "Do you honestly not know?" she asked back in challenge.

And yes, he did, but he just…wasn't…sure. Shaking her head at him, she turned to look at outside. Rick cleared his throat a little then. "Michonne and I…we're just…" he started, but she cut him off, turning her head back at him.

"Wait, lemme guess," she snickered with a derisive smile, "You're just _friends_, right?"

He grimaced, "I'm not sleeping with her," he snapped. _I'm sleeping with you, idiot._

She looked at him directly in the eyes. "Why?"

"Why?"

"Why you're not sleeping with her?" she clarified, "Don't tell me there's nothing between you two," she challenged with heated look, "I'm _not_ a fool."

This whole talk was going so wrong Rick wanted to kick himself for starting it. "I don't know," he said, "We've never tried to find out." He paused, giving her a sidelook again, "Never wanted."

It'd hoped that would calm her down, but she got pissed even more. "Oh, so, you're trying to find it out with me only because _she's_ never wanted to do it with you?" she barked out a bitter laugh, "Too bad you've left to me, Sheriff."

"What? What are ya talking about? That wasn't what I meant."

"Hmm… are you then just waiting until she wants to find out? And I'm what? Your pastime activity?" she asked and let out another bitter laugh, "Let's fuck Amanda until something _better_ come up?" she sheeted out through her teeth.

"Amanda, what the _hell_ are you talking about?" he repeated, biting each word. He was getting angered too. Where all this was coming from? He knew she got her quills all drawn out, but this was ridiculous. And was that really what she thought of him…someone who would play with her like that because he couldn't get the woman he _wanted_? Who did she think he was?

He gave her a hard look as she stayed silent. "So that's what you think?" Rick asked, "That I'm killing time with _you_?" His eyes skipped between her and the road, "Amanda, do you _honestly_ believe I couldn't be with Michonne if I wanted?" he asked.

The words were pompous, he knew, but he was also true. If he really wanted—if he _really_ wanted, Rick knew he would have done whatever he was trying to do with Amanda with Michonne, too. He didn't know why he hadn't wanted to—Amanda was right at that, there was that thing between them too, they had survived too much together, shared already too much, but something always kept him off from taking the last step, and Michonne had never tested their boundaries, then Amanda came with kicking and screaming, testing all the boundaries, pushing all of his damn buttons, and Rick…well, damn, Rick had found himself…intrigued.

Sometimes Amanda even reminded him of Lori. Lori was never shy off pushing his boundaries, too, never shy off challenging him, and Rick suddenly realized how much Amanda _really_ looked like Lori, the same tall slender figure, the same green eyes, the long auburn hair… that had always been his type, always—Good lord! Was that why he was this infuriated with her—because Amanda looked like his dead wife—or because she was simply his type and Michonne just wasn't? He didn't know, and he felt disturbed of the answers too.

But his question had finally calmed her down, because she was looking at him with a less murder intent, "I'm trying to find it out with _you_, okay?" he told her then, parking at the clearing Daryl had found close to the barn, and snapped because he was getting really irritated where the conversation had turned to, "So chill down, and _stop_ being jealous."

Her face twisted with anger, and she shook her head, "Sometimes I _really_ hate you, Rick."

He opened the door, and answered like he'd before, "You hate that I'm right."

"_No_," Amanda hissed at his back, "pretty sure I hate _you_, too!"

# # #

Rick came to the caravan and pulled Aaron back to his feet, his face solemn, his jaw set, and after she'd closed the car's door with a thud, Amanda was marching toward the barn mad, so Beth knew they had another fight on the road while coming back. Beth wanted to sigh, but she didn't want to make Rick any crosser. Beth just wanted to talk with this Aaron.

She wanted to understand. She always believed there was still good people in the world, even after the Grady, and now her belief was being tested. It was too much, too much even for her. Rick started dragging Aaron to the barn with a curt order, "Move," as Daryl did the same with Eric, with only a bit less aggression.

Beth also wanted to talk to Daryl, wanted to learn what he was feeling, she knew he wouldn't trust anything like this—but there was no time. Daryl gave her a look, pointing with his head to get ahead, and she knew it was because he wanted to see her ahead of him…wanted to be sure…even if they'd turned back to the barn. She obliged, she wanted him to see her, too, know that she was okay. He needed that, so Beth was willing to comprise. She moved ahead and fell back with Michonne who was taking the point, her face grim too.

"Do you think we should try our chances?" Beth asked to the older woman. She wondered what Michonne was thinking now. The older woman had told last night this wasn't the world, and Beth had objected.

Michonne gave her a look, measuring, then slowly said, "We stayed out too long. If there's a chance, we need to try it. We need to see it."

Beth's eyes wandered around, "I want to see it, too," she said in return, accepting, "I just can't believe there's no…catch."

Michonne shook her head a little, and only said, "I don't believe none of us would believe it."

"What you said last night," Beth then asked, "About this not being the world, did you mean it?"

Stopping, Michonne looked at her for a while then she started walking again. "I don't know, Beth. I just know at some point we have to let it go…start living again." She waved her arms, "This isn't a living."

And yes, it wasn't. Inside the barn, Rick had started retelling what had happened to the group, and Beth found Amanda at the backside, keeping her distance. "What happened again?" Beth asked.

Amanda grunted out, "Had another fight."

Beth sighed. "How do you manage to fight this much, Amanda?" she asked curiously, because it was getting weary, Rick must have felt it too, and Beth was getting worried.

Amanda gave her a look. "Frankly, I've got no idea. He just…" She paused, as if she was mulling something over her head, "Sleeping with him doesn't come to me good, I guess," she then said, "Makes me... lose my shit."

So they'd slept again. Beth thought they were taking it slow, but she'd also thought Rick would have taken it only as well as Daryl had. "I'm not sure if _that's_ the reason, Amanda," Beth said knowingly, and watched a faint flush rose to Amanda's cheek as she ran her eyes away, and Rick was the only man who would bring such a reaction out of Amanda Shepherd. "So did you sleep again?" Beth asked.

She nodded, "Last night."

Beth smiled faintly. "I told Daryl last night I loved him."

Amanda turned to her, "Hmm… what did _he_ say back?"

Beth sighed, "He said…_fuck_ first."

Amanda shook her head, smiling tiredly. "Remind me again why we're still sleeping with these guys…"

Beth chuckled out softly at that. "Well, I don't know you, but I love mine quite a lot." Amanda huffed, "Do you…?" she then questioned openly, and wondered if Amanda would answer this time; it wasn't sleeping with Rick that made her lose her shit, not at all… "Do you love Rick, Amanda?"

Amanda's eyes moved toward Rick, and she looked at the man as if trying to decide, and she muttered, "I—can't seem to hate him." Then her face twisted, as if she remembered something, "Jerk," she hissed.

Beth sighed. "Do you think how life would be if we go there?" Beth then asked as Rick continued to explain Alexandria to the group, "If it's what it's," she said, "we then could be…normal."

Amanda pursed her lips, "I don't know if we could be ever normal again, Beth. Being normal is like innocence…once you lost it, you can never gain it back again."

Beth's eyes turned to Daryl, and she wondered how he really would take that place if it was really what they were claimed to be. She'd been thinking if it was a trap or something like Grady, she hadn't been thought of that, not truly. But Daryl… Daryl was used to things being ugly. She wondered how he would react in an environment like Alexandria. He hadn't even come inside the house when they'd camped before in their farm, but always kept his distance, away from the house. Would he…try to stay out again?

She didn't want him but Daryl had his own comfort zone, as well, and it'd taken her slashing her wrists to take him out of there. A tremor passed through as she realized Michonne was right, they'd stayed out too long. So she told Amanda the same, "Michonne says we stayed out too long," she said, "and I agree."

…And watched the older woman's face soured, her lips pursed, and she grunted. Then Beth _knew_. "Oh my god!" she breathed out silently, "Did you…did you fight with him about…Michonne?"

Amanda's face completely turned off, she twisted her head other side, refusing to answer. Beth shook her head. "You're jealous of her," Beth then slowly whispered out.

Amanda jumped down from their perch, not dignifying an answer, but her annoyed silence had said it all.

As Amanda went to stand against the wooden at the other corner, Rick had started handing Aaron's pictures to the group. The pictures had clear views of the town, the wall, the houses, the solar grid… everything. Aaron had come prepared. "The town built as an eco-friendly sustainability project," he went on, "so they have their own solar grid, cisterns and eco-based sewage filtration. And that means they got power and water."

They all looked at Aaron and Eric when Rick finished. "And we could just go there?" Maggie asked, frowning, "Just like that? They would take us in?"

Daryl grunted, turning aside from the small opening at the door. He was watching outside with Glenn, "He said there'd be auditions."

Aaron answered hurriedly at his tone, "The decision is Deanne's, our leader. She makes the final decision, but yes, I believe she will. This _is_ her idea, she charged me with finding people."

Jumping from their perch too, Beth walked to him. "But if we go, we're free to leave at anytime we choose?" she asked. She really didn't want to walk into a trap like Grady with her feet then got caught like a fly in a spider web.

"Yes," Aaron said.

"And there won't be any debt on us, nothing to pay you back?" she shared a look with Amanda as the other woman looked away. Aaron shook his head again. "You won't force us to do…anything?" Beth questioned further.

Another head shake, "No... We all have jobs, but we don't force anyone to do anything they would feel uncomfortable with or anything they don't want to do," Aaron clarified, "Deanne says we need to start rebuilding the civilization, and we need to have good people for that."

At that Amanda snorted out, shaking her head. "You know…I've have heard before…" She said, walking toward the men too, "_Rebuilding the civilization, _you say?" She shook her head with disgust, "I've had my run with the leaders with big ambitions—" Her eyes momentarily shifted to Rick, "It never ends well."

Amanda then walked to the other corner and found Abraham. He passed her to bottle but Amanda shook her head, refusing the offer as Rick checked her with the corner of his eyes, a glower being thrown at, walking to Carol's side as the older woman fed Judith with the apple jelly they had found. Alexandria had already saved them—saved Judith. This was world—there was no going back from this, there would never be holidays, birthdays, and summer picnics anymore, this… barely existing wasn't _really_ a living.

She walked to Daryl. Whatever they might do, she wanted him to be okay with it. "What do you think?"

"I ain't liking it," Daryl said without mincing the words, "I ain't like nothing that look like coming free… It means you just ain't know the price yet."

Beth sighed, and wandered her eyes around, "We need a roof above our heads, Daryl."

He gave her a look, "That's what you think?"

"That's what I _know_," she shot back like the last time, "This isn't a living, Daryl—" She paused. "I _think_ the goodness is still possible in this world. When I look at Aaron and Eric, I feel like I'm seeing one of the good people who would do this against at all odds..."

"But—?" Daryl asked, sensing the invisible but in her words.

Beth shook her head, "But I'm known to be wrong." She let out a loaded sigh. _She'd_ been the one writing thank you notes to Dawn, after all. "Michonne thinks we need to go and see it," Beth said then, "We've been out far too long."

Daryl nodded as Rick came back with Judith, and told them for the last, "We have vehicles and the supplies now. We can try our chances too. But if you all want to see it—we'll see it first." He paused again and told them what he'd been telling him since the church got overrun, "One way or another we _will_ find a home."

# # #

He was planning something. Amanda was refusing to believe that Rick Grimes was only going there to see it. She could still remember his word with a perfect clarity. _If I'm going there, I'm taking it._

Amanda understood now clearly he didn't want to be _that man_—like he'd told her before in the church. He didn't want to be a tyrant, but Amanda _still_ knew if he was going there, he was also taking it.

So he must be planning something.

She didn't know what she was supposed to do. They weren't still on the good speaking terms, so she couldn't just go and asked him directly. Well, she could, but she didn't want to be the one who came back cowering. She didn't even know what made her so upset, confronting him like that. When she felt unsure of something, she usually was never confronting about it. So yeah, maybe, she _was_ jealous, so what? He didn't have to such a dick about it—slapping it at her face like that. She knew she shouldn't let it bother her—she should just shoo it away, it was a fly…a bothersome fly bothering her… it was just like that, but that smile they had shared… she remembered the scene again, feeling hot and frustrated… It was her due… She had to be the one who got it, not Michonne or anyone else. She was the one who had gotten his bite, _her_.

So one slip, one little slip, and she had vomited out her insecurities all over him. How the talk had come to that, she had no idea. Perhaps sleeping with him really didn't come to her good…making her lose her shit... or… she really—well, she had really fallen in love. Either way, she was screwed.

So he _wanted_ her—that part was quite obvious, but what worried her was the afterward. What would happen if someday he simply decided that if he didn't want her any longer—lust was good and nice, but it waned off, and the mistresses always got dumped off—then she would get dumped too, she guessed. It wouldn't be the end of the world. She wouldn't be the first girl in the history who got dumped by the man…ugh.

Good lord! This _was_ stupid, all too stupid.

Amanda wasn't idiot, though. She'd noticed long before while she'd been trying to ready herself for physic evaluations that she had trust issues and fear of abandonment that sort of had crippled her emotional life, but it'd also created her comfort zone, so she hadn't been whining. She'd learned over time to cheat to pass over the tests ADP had forced them to go under mandatory, so no one had bothered her too, or hadn't cared enough even though she'd not passed, it wasn't like that ADP was the best caring police department in the world, a police officer who might have some...issues meant paper work, and if there had been one thing Amanda had learned since she'd been a little girl it was that people _hated_ paper work. But what she was supposed to do now?

_Go talk to him,_ Beth offered in her mind, _Go talk to him._ Yeah, good point. But how? She couldn't go and tell him she had fears that he was only fucking her until he got bored or got ready again for another relationship, and then he would move on, dumping her off for someone else, for something _better_.

Her face soured like she'd eaten something rotten, bile in her mouth. Hadn't she just told him _that_ in the car? Rick wasn't an idiot—she'd been more on the _accusing_ part, of course, but he would've surely read between the lines.

Maybe she should just go and make him jealous in return, payback was a bitch, and Amanda could get very bitchy when she wanted. She knew he didn't like her hanging out with Abraham, and she also knew it wasn't only because of the drinking. A girl noticed this kind of stuff, and she could test the waters a bit… a girl also gotta keep her skills sharp… She stopped the thoughts. That was _losing_ _shit_, something she shouldn't do, something they wouldn't afford, either.

She had to be reasonable. They had too many problems—things were hard on the road but focused on the staying alive they'd managed not to bite their heads off. They were trying to survive here, and it never ended, it just never ended. She was sure this Alexandria was going to be another hell—because she just knew if something was sounding too good to be true, then it was _false_. Even if it wasn't, then it was even worse. The good were always worse. A few times the foster homes were good, and she'd used to feel herself secure for a little while, but then when it was gone, it was so much harder… losing the good was so worse than losing the bad… She remembered Rick…she remembered her fears, and shaking her head, she stood up. No plays, no pushing buttons. She had to be…_normal_. Talking to him, like people did. Looking around, she went to find him.

He was outside the barn, talking to Carl, his hand on his hip, he looked like instructing his son on something, then his hand moved to Carl's shoulder and he gave it a squeeze, smiling at the young boy—and something in chest tugged—another tug deep inside her throbbed, and she almost dropped on her knees and started crying to him—but for what, she didn't know. She wondered if that was a _normal_ reaction, too, seeing a man, a man… you're…well, in love with. Because there was definitely something with him that turned her insides out, something that clawed at her insides—her needs before she'd met him had been always quite simple, but the damn man was really making her want…_more_. Family, love, babies, being his—completely and utterly—being his… It _must_ be hormones, she decided then. It surely must be hormones. She was in her early thirties, and something with him was making her hormones go crazy at the last exit. She'd read about some shit like that, women getting…cravings after her thirties, the time rushing towards the menopause, so it was definitely that.

"Hey—" she called him softly, _cowering_… Hormones… it must be hormones… "Can we… uh…can we talk for a moment?" she asked.

Seeing her playing nice, he narrowed his eyes, and walked to her. He moved her further from the barn, from others where they could be alone. Then he looked at her, waiting for her to speak. "Um…" she said, fidgeting on her feet, but couldn't start.

"What's it, Amanda?" he asked tersely, "We're leaving in an hour. We need to prepare."

"What're you planning?" she asked then, she had never been the one rounding the words, "Don't tell me nothing, I know you do." Crossing his arms across his chest, he gave her a look. She pressed on, "We've already had this conversation, Rick."

He nodded stiffly, "Then the answer is pretty obvious."

"Are you—will you take it?"

He shook his head. "I'm _still_ not that man. I'm going to _see_ it. If they're what they claim to be, then it's fine. We'll get along. But if they're not…" He paused, and shook his head, giving her another look.

"You're taking it."

His eyes turned sterner. "I told y'all I'm gonna find you us a home," he said, "and I will."

Her insides swooned in a way that wasn't certainly appropriate for a grown up woman, and nodding she smiled at him, remembering it was exactly the reason she'd decided to trust him at the first place. She sat down at a tree root and patted the ground at her side. Taking her hint, he followed her too.

"Do you know why I decided to step down at the church and let you take the lead?" she asked then, but continued without waiting a reply, "You don't have big ambitions, Rick. The only thing you care about is your family. You don't want to save the world. You don't want to keep the order. You don't want to rebuild the civilization. You just want to keep your family safe." She smiled a bit shyly, running her eyes away a bit, but continued, "I've never had big ambitions, too. There's always one thing I've ever wanted—to be safe—to feel safe—" She shook her head, words falling out of her with a long sigh, "This world—this world is like a nightmare of my every childhood fears." She paused, bowing her head, a bit taken aback that she had let out that much, and still continued, "Nowhere is safe. You're in one home today, and in another tomorrow. It just never ends."

"Hey—" he called at her, and touching at her chin, he lifted her head up. "We still have each other. You're my family, too."

She stared at him and questioned, "Am I?" she asked directly, "Today at the caravan, when we found the food, I felt happy we found them for Judith. I looked for you—wanted to share the moment with you, wanted to smile at you but when I looked for you were _already_ smiling at Michonne. Didn't like it, Rick, not a bit." She paused, "So was I jealous? Yeah, I was." Her eyes turned shaper as she fixed at him a look, "I'm _not_ the sharing type."

"Hmm—" he stared at her back, "Never thought you would be."

"Good," she shot back, "As long as we're clear. 'cause I really want to try this out with you, too" she paused, "I didn't mean those, either," she continued vaguely, but she knew he understood, "I know you're _not_ that kind of man. It's just sometimes even if you know it, it's hard to…_feel_ it, you know what I mean?" It was usually like that, fear blocked the reason, and you just _couldn't_ feel it, even if you knew it… "Then I lose my shit."

Still staring at her, his eyes searching, Rick slowly nodded, "I know," he said, and she feared he was going to ask more, demanded to know more, but he only continued, "It's okay. I lose it sometimes, too."

She gave him a small smile, feeling relived. "I know." She turned the smile into a rogue one, putting a wicked edge at it, because talking was getting so heavy, and she hated that, too, "Why do you think I was enjoying pushing your buttons that much?" she laughed, leaning on him, "I knew when you lost it, it was gonna be something spectacular…" His eyes kept staring at her, intense and darkened, and she pushed further, "you were making me so _wet_ with all those grunts and bites—"

She yelped as he jumped on her and nipped at her neck, her hands grabbing her shoulders. "Play nice."

She laughed, trying to pull herself away from him. "But I am…I'm playing nice, Rick. I didn't go and try to make you jealous back. Didn't test the waters… I know you _don't_ like me seeing with Abraham, too. I could—you know—try… But I played nice, came to talk to you instead."

His eyes lifted up at hers from her neck. "Why you didn't?"

"You know me…" she said then with a smile, "I can very reasonable when I wanted."

At that, Rick only snorted.

# # #

"You ready?" Beth asked to Daryl, extending her hand before they stepped into the caravan for Alexandria.

Over his shoulders, Daryl looked at the horseshit smelling barn, the place he'd ever heard a woman telling him she loved him, loved whole…this and that, whole package. The place _he'd_ ever told it back, too, said a woman he loved her back, this and that, whole.

Turning back to her, Daryl grabbed Beth's hand.

He knew it was going to be damn awful, that Alexandria, he knew there was a catch, and worse he knew even if there wasn't a catch, he was going to stand out like a sore thumb in those white pristine houses. He didn't belong there—he would never belong in a place like that, but that was where his family was going—there was where Beth _wanted_ to go—so hell, once again that was the end of the story.

He could go with Beth even to the hell.

"C'mon, let's go," he said, tugging at her hand, "Smells like horseshit anyways."

Beth chuckled, smiled, and gave him a little peck on the lips, "I'm always gonna remember this place," she whispered before she stepped in the van.

_So a'm, Beth,_ he thought, following her in. _Always_.

# # #

As Glenn and Abraham worked on the RV's battery, Rick had come to her side. "There's only a few miles left to the town," he said.

Amanda nodded, "Yeah," and looked at him, "Having jitters?" she asked.

He gave her a pointed look. "Do you have Aaron's gun still with you?"

Understanding lit in her eyes, "Yeah."

He gestured with his head, "Good. Let's go." Turning aside, he looked at Carl, "We're coming shortly."

Carl nodded. They started walking. "The leaders who have _big_ ambitions…" Rick said as they went through the woods, "They worry me too, Amanda," Rick said.

"Yeah," she said, "You can never know how they would end up like—" She paused, jumping through a falling long, "At first I thought Dawn didn't have the bite, you know. It was all talk, talk, talk with her… Then I understood… it was like…talk, talk, talk…then _bam_!" She let out a sigh, "She shoots you in the head or throws you off an elevator shaft. She was unpredictable. Her faith made it even worse."

For a second, Rick's feet faltered and he gave her a fleeting look. "You were doing with it with her, too, right? You were testing her too?"

She smiled bitterly, "I've been doing it for a long time, Rick—" she said, "as long as I know myself." She paused, threading through tree roots, "Foster homes aren't kindergartens. You have to be prepared."

His face turned stiff, "How many were you rotated?" he asked.

She shrugged, "Stopped counting after a dozen." She gave out a sigh then, "I was lucky, I guess. I wasn't abused—raped-or got tortured or anything. Got beaten a couple of times, but pretty sure it was better than what Daryl had to survive." She again shook her head, "It was just…unstable, lonely. And the fear was always there…uncertainty…" She stopped again, seeing a half destroyed cabin, "It was always there…" she repeated in a whisper, remembering those times….wondering each time she set a foot into a new house, if her luck would turn this time—Even when someone told her she was beautiful, she used to get so scared.

She turned and looked at Rick, shrugging with a smile. "Well, look at me, talking about my childhood. I'm getting old." She took the gun out and handed it to him, "What are we going to do with this?"

Looking at her, Rick took the gun then pulled her in his embrace, his arms circling her tightly. He didn't say anything, but Amanda still understood what he was saying… and she almost cried, then he titled his head down and kissed the crown of her head.

She forced out a laugh through a lump in her throat, trying to pull back, "I've still got brains in my head…"

He sniffed with a laugh and looked at her. "Don't test anyone, okay? Let me deal with it. I _will_ deal with it." Letting her go, he crouched down and found an old blender's container in the pillage to hide the gun it, "You don't have to do this now."

They shared a look as he hid the container, and stood up. "What I'm going to do then?" she asked, not refusing the idea…but being curious, almost intrigued.

Rick shrugged, "Whatever you want."

# # #

There it stood, Alexandria—the walls and everything. Rick stayed in the car for a second, waiting—he was going to see it—He wanted to. He just wanted to have his people, his family safe, secured… He didn't have big ambitions. Only that. Be them safe—then perhaps they would get to live again.

Then he heard it—slowly coming from the other side of the wall—at first he couldn't even recognize the sound—it was so faint—barely audible and it'd been _so_ _long_ since the last time he'd heard it…

Children playing…

Next to him, on the passenger seat, Amanda, twisting aside, smiled at him, and Rick wondered if that was how it was supposed to… his life… from now on, if that was how it was supposed to be, Carl and Judith seated on the backseat, and Amanda seated on the passenger seat next to him.

She placed her hand on his. "Ready?" she asked.

He nodded, remembering the gun they had hid in the woods, the realization clear and open in his mind. He was here… and there was no going back.

He opened the door and stepped down, went to back side to take Judith…his little baby girl… children voices in his ears.

He was ready.

# # #

One thing was sure as fuck, it didn't smell like horseshit.

All eyes at the door were looking at them, waiting them to get inside as they stood still at the gates. Aaron looked at them, "It's going to be okay," the good looking guy said, "Please, come on in."

Still no one took a step in, they were all waiting warily. Daryl stood at the edge, Beth at his side, well, they were here at least.

So…they should better get over it.

A jitter came from the bins at his other side at the road, and Daryl twisted aside, raising his crossbow, and killed a possum that had come out…

He bent to take the dead animal from the ground, Beth shaking her head with a sigh next to him, and he looked at the men at the other side. "We brought dinner."

Rick gave him a look, a tilt of head, and started walking in.

Without a word, they all started following him.


	27. Chapter 27

_A/N: attn. please. updating two chapters at once._

XXVII.

"Do you want to be here?" the woman asked, and Daryl halted on his steps as he paced back and forth in the room and gave the old woman a fleeting look. He hadn't taken a seat as the woman requested too, because it felt ridiculous—damn fucking ridiculous to sit down in front of a camera and answered questions like a moron.

The real answer for that question was a _hell no,_ but he didn't think the woman would like it to hear it. It didn't matter anyway. They were all here. Beth and the rest of the group had wanted to _see_, and Rick had walked in, so here they all were. It didn't matter anymore what he wanted.

"People I care…" Daryl said, and stopped for a second, his dead possum still in his hand and he didn't have a damn idea why, then told the woman what Beth had said, "They deserve a roof above their heads."

"Hmm…" Deanna said in return.

Rick had turned to from his…interview telling them to look around, but Daryl had stayed behind, he had no desires to look around those clean, white houses—Rick had mentioned how he and Lori used to pass over the neighborhoods like this and thought if one day they would have lived in one of them… Well they were all here now, Daryl had said. And, all in frankness, despite everything Daryl was _still_ hating it.

It wasn't only that the place looked like the neighborhoods he'd passed over in front of too, unlike Rick, alone a cold, contempt with fury deep in his stomach… the families and fakeness of the façade… all happy, and he could've bet fake. No, Daryl had passed those times now. He'd dealt with his contempt and fury, but the feel of not belonging was still with him, but it wasn't only that, either.

The place damn reminded him of the funeral home, and it was bad. Like always, it was bringing back familiar fears…remembering how much a fool he'd been there, lowering his guard. Electricity, water, walls… the comforts of the back of the days. If they lowered their guards now, this place was going to turn them soft. He just knew that. Though, Daryl could see none of them was lowering their guards, they were all still wary.

He remembered Beth's wariness, like a wild animal trying to catch a scent of a trap in the wild, and despite everything his insides still screamed in protest… He knew he was being an idiot, but he couldn't help himself. _This_ wasn't how she was supposed to be… this wasn't his Beth—the Beth he knew would have been spinning around now—feeling giddy—p-paralyzed with happiness, laughing… and it was high time for Daryl to finally accept the truth that Beth was gone, she'd lost that girl somewhere along the way from the prison to this place.

It hurt Daryl, it hurt him so badly he wanted to drop on his knees and cry—he wanted his Beth back, the girl who had sung to him they were all be good while he was lying in a coffin—the girl who used to write thank you notes to the people she didn't know… _He_ had been so ready to try it out then…so ready… to see if it would work.

He wouldn't make the same mistake again. He couldn't. He hated it—even though he didn't know what he hated…he hated—the fate, the world, his own failure to protect her… He loved her—he loved her truly and wholly—but still he had failed her. He'd failed her so much.

When Deanne realized he was in no mood to talk the woman sent him off with a nice smile. She looked good, someone who knew a few things about people too, but Daryl wasn't really in the mood. "Why don't you go and prepare your dinner, Mr. Dixon," the leader of the town said, "We'll talk later."

Daryl grunted in answer, and tailed back.

On his way back, at the next house to Deanne's, he saw a little boy around ten or so with dirty blonde hair as he was watching him from their own porch, his hands at the railings, his face pressed on it—staring at him—staring at the dead animal in his hands and his crossbow over his back. Daryl turned aside toward him, and growled faintly at the boy, leaning on. The boys at his age could easily get the wrong ideas and he didn't want a little one playing with his crossbow like a toy.

He turned back to the house, and sat down the steps, placing the possum next to him, and let out a grunt sigh. Like he'd predicted, this was going to be dawn awful. Give him walkers in the woods anytime, he wouldn't even blink—but this… no, all in frankness, Daryl understood he still preferred being out there instead of…this.

Beth must still be inside, searching the house with the others, and Rick was out looking around the town, possibly getting all the exits and entrances, mapping out the buildings, and he should do the same too, that was the damn thing he should do—not sit down on his ass, not doing no shit, but somehow he still stayed on the steps, his dead animal at his side, feeling like shit—but trying not to think anything…

Carl and Carol exited the next house they were given to, and walked towards him. "Hey, how the interview went?" Carol asked, resting against the railings.

"Hmm…" Daryl grunted out in answer.

"Did you check around?" Carol asked, looking at him. Daryl shook his head.

"All these…" Carol said then at his silence, "And they're giving them away freely."

"No shit ain't free," Daryl shot back, playing with his thumbs.

Carl looked around the town, his eyes wandering, "I told Dad this place is gonna turn us weak," the young boy then said after a while.

Daryl lifted his head and looked at Carl, not surprised. Rick Grimes wasn't raising a son for an idiot. Carl had understood what he felt too, but Carol shook her head. "No… I don't think your Dad will let that happen. We'll see."

Daryl gave Carol a look, and she gave him a smile back, and Daryl understood one thing once again, despite all the sweet, kind looking exterior she put on as a front, Carol was a woman still tough as nail. She waved at Carl and ushered him inside the house, "Let's find the others," she said, and turning to him, she asked, "You coming?"

Daryl shook his head. No. He didn't want to see the houses. He continued sitting there alone after they went inside, stilling doing no shit, wondering if Carol was right, being weak wasn't in them anymore and if they would turn this place into something else before it turned them.

Beth found him like that after a while. Wordlessly, she sat down at the other side of the animal at the step and looked ahead. She still had the same wary air, and Daryl wanted to sigh out heavily, but kept it inside, then caught her look at her forearm.

Damn! "Hey—ya 'kay?" he asked then.

"I—I don't know," she answered, her voice small, "I know we can't stay out there anymore… I know that wasn't a living and this—this's _so_ good… I saw beds inside… clean, soft, white sheets…"

She breathed out. Daryl nodded, "I know," he said and he touched her hand because he didn't know what else to do, "I know…" and Daryl really had to accept that this Beth was the woman he loved now, and he told her he loved her, this and that, whole.

_Whole._

He still loved her whole.

"When we found the prison first," Beth started talking after a while, "I couldn't even open my backpack for a month. I couldn't bring myself…to hope," Daryl started listening closely, "Couldn't bring myself to believe again that was it…it'd ended. We could stay there forever, safe. Then my father asked me…what was the point of living if we didn't have hope… so I dared to hope. And when we lost it, it was so awful, Daryl." She rested her head on his shoulder, and asked, "Do you remember me?"

And he could—he still remembered her—telling him she needed do _this_, _needed_ her drink, staring at him, and her accusations that he never understood her, and perhaps she had been right, he always failed to understand her, because right now as he wondered this place would turn them softer if it was what they claimed it to be, Daryl realized that Beth was afraid of losing it like they'd lost prison.

Her head still on his shoulder, Beth went on, "I don't want to feel like that ever again. One part of me wants to return to the woods, to stay there—never try this so I could…be spared from the pain." She lifted her eyes up at him, "Is that how you feel too?"

His eyes found hers, but he couldn't tell her he was more afraid to turn softer, weaker, and fail her…not being able to protect her as he should. "I'm used to things being ugly, Beth," he said instead, "but yeah… sometimes I get scared of…good things, too." He'd been so scared…of losing _her_, hurting her…failing her…the only good thing he'd ever truly had.

"Like us?" Beth questioned, and he couldn't answer, but he didn't need to, she knew the answer, "I know you were afraid of us… I always knew it, Daryl," she then said, "But I think I never truly understand before how it feels before." How it _felt_… how it felt awful…coming close to losing her…and he wished Beth would never learn, but he also knew it was too late for that wish now.

"Amanda calls it a comfort zone," she went on after a second, "staying safely in a place of what you're used to…even if it's bad. But even it's good, nothing ever grows there. We can't stay there," she said, then she got stiff beside him, he _felt_, "We have to get out of there." She pulled back and looked at him, her eyes open and clear fixed at his, and he saw a stubborn light inside them, the light he'd so missed… "We have try."

"How?" Daryl found himself whispering out, because he wanted to… God knew he wanted to…

"I don't know," she then answered truthfully, but held his hand tighter, "But I'm _gonna_ find out," and her eyes shone brighter, and Daryl saw the girl at the woods that screamed at him once again—the girl at the woods who had slowly but determinately pulled down his every walls, lying them down at her feet—and that was the Beth he knew, it always her…and Daryl understood with a sudden realization that he didn't only love her more than the life itself, but he also _admired_ her…admired her resolute belief, her never ending fight not to lose hope even things were just damn godawful.

And as he'd done before they watched the sunrise, he pulled her toward himself—burying his head on her shoulder, breathing her scene in, and he wanted to bury himself in her too, losing himself in her, in her belief—he admired her… She was a goddess, his goddess, his faith, his light, his beacon in the light…and he wanted to worship her… lost himself in her…

He started kissing her neck, tracing his lips over her collarbone, and each little moaning she made was like a spell that bound him on her further—and he felt like he was bounded to her—like a part of his soul etched on her—the best part of him—now forever belonged to her…

"Daryl—" she whispered out his name, and he was done.

He pulled back an inch and remembered the garage he'd seen at the back of the house, and standing up, he started pulling her up back on her feet, too. "Come." he only said, tugging at her, dragging her to the garage. Without a word, understanding him, Beth followed.

She loved it—she said she was enjoying it—this part of him—his protectiveness drove her mad—she never wanted to be left behind, even if it made Daryl crazy with worry—thinking her open to threats—He should protect her, he had to protect her, had to make sure nothing bad would ever happen to her again—he'd come so close losing her—that was what he never wanted to feel again… and he'd tried too hard to keep himself away, and when he let it go, all the protectiveness had rushed back at him, all the things he'd wanted to but thought he'd no _rights_…

He had every right _now_… She was his…and he was hers. He started kissing her again, resting her at the garage door, and found the little storage cabin just outside it, and opening it, he pushed her inside. They were alone. After weeks, they were alone again—a roof over their heads like she had wanted—and Daryl knew she was right—they couldn't stay there—in that comfort zone—they should do it—grow—and he wanted to do it…do it with Beth. He could only do it with Beth.

It was awful—the houses, the cleanness, the people… they were all awful… and at the end he would only fuck it up again… but…he could try, for Beth.

# # #

Amanda sat in front of the camera and looked the old woman sitting across her, keeping her face neutral, free of any emotion. She'd already decided not to play. Rick had said she didn't have to do it now, and well, looking at her like this, giving her a kiss like that—Amanda…had no option but try it, even though she still had no clue whatever that was she was _exactly_ trying.

She was hoping she would find out along the way…like Rick and she did… They did find out, she supposed. They…they looked like a couple now. They hadn't talked about it openly of course, but it felt like it, even though she was all too aware of the ring he still kept wearing. That thing worried her as much as his pseudo relationship with Michonne, and there was also Carl, she guessed Rick had to tell him if it wasn't _just_ sex, too, and she knew he hadn't done that yet. So she really didn't know.

Maybe they just needed time. The moment in the car was nice, too nice, but this place was making everyone on pin and needles, and Amanda was very familiar with that feeling. The leader of their current residence gave her a smile, kind and warm, welcoming… "Hello officer," she greeted Amanda.

Amanda shook her head. "No. I'm not a cop anymore," she corrected the woman, and waved at the t-shirt she still wore with the ADP insignia decorated over her chest, "It's just something I wear now."

"So you stopped being a cop?" the woman, Deanne, asked.

Amanda shrugged, "I wasn't a good one anyways."

Deanne looked at her. "That's bad. I need a cop, and I was hoping you could help me with that."

Amanda raised her hands to her each side and gave the woman a little smile back, "Sorry. I'm trying…something else."

"Hmm…may I ask what?"

She shrugged off, "I'm not sure of yet." She paused, "I'm trying to find out."

Deanne nodded. "So… Amanda, what do you think of this place?"

"It looks…good," she said, but didn't add it looked so good it made her sick. She at least could feel a bit relieved none of them were getting blinded by this seemingly free generosity. Everyone was wary, but Amanda had always known Rick's family wasn't bloody idiots. Idiots couldn't survive what they had suffered.

"Do you trust us?"

Rolling her eyes, Amanda gave the old woman such a look the woman only laughed in response. "You're not the trusting type, I get it." She paused, "Rick thinks we shouldn't take strangers in, instead protect what we have."

"Rick's usually _always_ right," Amanda said simply, "you'll see."

"You know him well?" the woman asked curiously.

"Know him better than you," she shot back, and leaned down toward the older woman, "Can I give you an advice, Deanne? Something might save you from some trouble?" The woman nodded, "Do whatever he says. Not only he knows how this world works, knows it better than I've ever known anyone does, but he's also a good, honest man, someone you would want your side, if you're lucky. Don't go behind his back, don't test him, don't try to use him," she said, "He won't let you."

"Do you think I'll try to use him?" Deanne asked, "Use you?"

Amanda shrugged, "I don't know. I'm just giving you an advice, that's all."

The woman gave her back a searching look. "Does it come from personal experience?"

Amanda laughed, "You're smart, I'll give to you that." She rested on her back, sighing out, "Do you think yourself safe behind these walls, don't you?" she asked, "The monsters are out there but they wouldn't touch you."

Deanne nodded. "Our walls are strong."

Amanda laughed bitterly. "_My_ walls were strong too," she said in response, "and they weren't like these simple metal planks, either. They _were_ hard concrete, steel and iron, and do you know how it slipped off my hand like they were made of butter?" Deanne shook her head, "Someone died. Not of an attack, not of a fight, not of a wound, not of an infection. Someone simply died in his bed, and turned. Then all hell broke loose." She looked at the old woman, and continued, "Not far from here, there is a little town called Shirewilt Estate. They _had_ walls too. Then the wolves came, and they'd brought the hell along. They butchered everyone inside, down to the little babies, burning down the houses. I saw the corpses, mutilated, half burned, half rotted." She leaned down, her face twisting with a cold fury, "So you think yourself safe—" Amanda gave her a look again, shaking her head, "—think _again_."

Deanne nodded at her. "I need an aide," the woman told her then, "And you just seem to be what I was looking for," she continued as Amanda resting back, holding her eyes at hers, "So if you don't want to be cop, perhaps you'd consider being my aide?"

For a moment or so, Amanda halted. Being her right hand meant being inside, but it also meant getting involved, and she felt that Rick sort of wanted her to stay out of it, too—and all in frankness, she didn't want to get involved, either. If she went down that path, she wouldn't stop, she knew herself. She was ready to give her help to Rick whenever he asked for it, and she'd like a gun for herself, too, to protect herself if it was come to that, but… no more plotting mutinies or murders for her. She had Rick now, even though she didn't know what they were exactly, she had him. She was safe with him, she and everybody she cared…her girls, Beth, Daryl. They were all safe with him.

"No, I hate politics," she said, refusing, "And I told you…I'm trying something different." She stopped and looked at the woman. "Let me be open here. If necessary, I can go to supply runs, I can take watches and when the time comes, I'll protect the walls and the community from any attack, but that's it," she said in earnest, "Don't ask me anything further."

Deanne gave her a look. "I understand," she said slowly, "So what do you want to do then?"

Amanda thought about it…what she really wanted to do? She'd been thinking on it since Rick had told her she could do whatever she wanted, but she still didn't know. Most of her life she just did what she needed to do, but things she _wanted_ _to_ do… she just didn't stop and think before. She looked at the outside, trying to decide, then saw outside the Deanne's office's window the house across—a blonde woman was at the porch, with children around her—and in her hands, there was a tray, full with cookies. Once, in one of the good homes, one of her foster parents used to make cookies, and she used to like it so much, feeling happy and full like she'd never felt… and in some dark, long nights, she used to dream about those moments when everything was so bleak, then she'd forgotten…

Now Amanda remembered. "I…" she said, returning to Deanne, "I want to make cookies."

A small smile tugged at her lips, Amanda walked back to the house, wondering if Rick and his little ones loved cookies.

# # #

Hot water felt like a miracle. Rick stood under the jet, his hands placed on the wall, his head bowed… _Because it's all about survival now. At any cost. _His words turned in his mind while he stood there under the jet, reminding himself he would do what must be done, then they got to live, but Amanda was right on that part, it _never_ ended. It would only end when they died now.

Michonne had said it wasn't a living, they'd been out a way too long, and she had been right, too.

He had to find a comprise, a common ground between the two, it was like two different worlds were clashing together, and it was a struggle each of them had to fight for, but it was Rick's decision at the end, it was always his, his responsibility. He needed to keep his family safe. He didn't have big ambitions, only that.

And the children were playing… Judith and Carl deserved this. He was going to _give_ them this… chance. He let the dirt and blood and remains of the wildness washed off of his body, twirling between his feet—his nails long and dirty like an animal…and a part of him was an animal too, doing whatever it took to survive, but that was the way of the things were now. He stepped out of the shower and looked at the mirror, almost couldn't recognize the face that was looking at him back. It wasn't only the bushy bread and hair that was curling against his neck too—no, it was the lines that were etched around his eyes and lips with frowns and grimaces and that sternness inside his eyes—like a gemstone turning into a stone—he was turning into a stone.

He took the scissors he'd found inside the cabinet, and started shortening his beard for razor. He wanted to see his face—his real face—the man he had been before all this had started. Then his eyes caught at the ring at his finger—the scissor halting for a second. For a second, he remembered Amanda, the way she smiled at him in the car and he wondered if it was the time now because it disturbed him, the notion of trying it out with her while still wearing his ring was disturbing but somehow he still couldn't take it off. He started cutting his beard again.

Just before he finished shaving, he heard the doorbell. He was alone in the house, the rest of them were still looking around—and Amanda had gone to see Deanne after Daryl had returned, so one of them must have come back now. Rick looked at the dirty stained brown shirt he'd discarded at the floor, but couldn't bring himself to put it back again on his clean body. He'd wear the pants but the t-shirt must be cleaned first.

He walked to the door naked chested. He opened it but instead of one of them coming back as he'd thought, a blonde woman was standing at the threshold, holding a basket of supplies in her arms.

"Hi. I'm Jessie. I work for the pantry." She gave him a smile, introducing herself, "Deanne asked me to give you supplies," she explained, extending him the basket.

Nodding, Rick took it. "Thank you." Then he remembered his state of cloth, "We—we were cleaning up."

The woman nodded. "Yeah, I can see. There's still shaving cream at your chin," she said, pointed at his chin with a smile. Quickly, he wiped it of with his shoulder, "I was a stylist before—I—uh—can give you a hair cut too if you want."

Well, she was very friendly, or Alexandria was _really_ a place of friendly, helpful people. "You don't even know me," he stated, his eyes squinted.

Jessie gave him a look, smiling further, "You're Rick, aren't you?" she asked, "Your reputation precedes you, you see," the woman said, then looked at him, "I can take care of myself."

Rick thought about it for a few seconds—wondering if it was a sort of…another test, from Deanne, wondered if the woman was trying to get him open up, and a charming blonde attractive woman with a disarming smile looked like a cunning way to do it. He'd decided to play along, to see what this was about, and…well, he needed a haircut.

A few minutes later Rick was sitting in front of her in the kitchen, a towel across his shoulder after he'd put on his shirt back, his hair getting clipped off by Jessie as the woman chatted over it amiably. She had an easy-going, pleasant way of talking, but along the way as she talked, it really felt like he was getting questioned.

"We could introduce them to each other," the woman went on, clipping off his hair, talking about their children, "Of course, if it's okay with you and…" she halted.

"It's just me," he roughed out, but having a nagging that she'd already known it, too.

"Oh…I'm sorry," she mumbled out, and stayed quiet for a second.

"Electricity, showers, haircuts…" Rick said then slowly, irony wasn't lost on him, "I never thought I'd see them again."

"Come on," she said back joking, "Haircuts would never go away."

Rick didn't comment on that, but before Jessie could say anything else, Rick heard Amanda's rich tones from the door. "Well, I don't know about that," she said, staying at the threshold of the open door, looking at them, her eyes heated—glaring at the scene in front of her, and inwardly, Rick swore.

"Haircuts have always been messy things—" She walked into the kitchen with long purposeful strides as if she was walking to the walkers, "For one, I used to hate them… you know, you say an inch and the stylist _just_ cuts half of your hair," she hissed, then added for an extra measure, seething through her teeth, "_Fucking_ really hating it." She sat down on a seat across him, turning her eyes at him, "_Trying_ something new, are we?" she asked, her glaring eyes fixed at his beardless face but she _wasn't_ talking about his look, he knew.

After that the woman set down the scissors on the table. "I—I'd come to bring supplies from the pantry," she explained.

Amanda smiled at her with the most mocking smile he'd ever seen over her face. "And stayed for the haircuts," she bit off, "_How_ friendly of you."

"_Amanda_," Rick got in between, uttering her name pointedly, "This's Jessie."

Amanda sniffed out in answer, looking at Jessie as Rick took the towel off his shoulders, looking at _her_, but Amanda didn't move her eyes from the other woman.

"I—I should go," Jessie said, nodding, "If you need a haircut—"

Amanda cut her off, "I'll ask _Rick_," she said curtly, and it felt she was marking her territory bluntly. Rick couldn't decide how it felt—part one of him wanted to throw her on the table and had her just over there—the other part—well, he was just getting tired. Amanda was a jealous woman, he got that. She didn't like sharing, and it was fine, Rick hated sharing too, what he'd gone through with Lori and Shane still hurt whenever he let himself to think of it, but _this_ was getting weary, and he really didn't time for this.

Getting Amanda's point, Jessie nodded, "Well, then, welcome to Alexandria," the woman said, turning to leave.

Rick then turned to Amanda. "Was that really necessary?" he asked, exasperated.

"Necessary?_"_ she hissed out, leaning down over the table, "You _were_ flirting with her!"

He gave her a look, "She was cutting my hair."

"_Oh,_ _come on!_" she exclaimed.

"Amanda."

"I know the fucking flirting when I see it," she snapped, "But if you don't, I'd just go and teach you what it's, so then you'd watch and learn."

Anger boiled inside him at her threat, and he stood up. "I don't have time for this," he said tersely and started walking out. He would've tried to explain—would've told her that he'd just wanted to see what that was—played along, but he was tired, and wired, this place was making it even worse. He didn't need another fight with her.

"Yeah, I see you're very _busy_ with getting haircuts—" she bit off at his back, "Is this how it's gonna be Rick?" she asked from behind.

He turned on his heels. Well, _she'd_ asked for it. Fight, then. "I can ask the same, Amanda," he shot back, "Are you going to lose it at every woman who dared to speak with me?"

"_Dared_ to speak with you?" she shook her head, breathing out, "You know, I keep telling myself that it's only _me_, my fears of losing what we've got here, but maybe…it's my feelings that blinds me to see what's in front of me."

Her face turned sterner at the words even though she'd admitted she was afraid of losing what they had— but what she'd implied angered him just further. Why she just couldn't trust him... Didn't he deserve it after everything? "And what do you _think_ it's in front of you, Amanda?" he asked, his voice curt and sharp.

She jumped off the stool and walked to him. "What's in front of me?" she repeated, shaking her head again, "First it's Michonne, lapping up around on your every word, and now this Jessie comes, giving you haircuts and there's _me_ giving you the bird and the bees, and _you_ wander around with the ring of your dead wife on your finger all the while…" She started laughing, "Is this a fucking harem?" and asked, giving him a look of contempt, "Do you plan to put us on rotation or are you going to have us all _at_ _once_?"

He took a step further on him, their chest touching at each other now, "Is this _really_ what you think of me, Amanda?" he asked coldly, "If it's, then, perhaps we really should stop doing this."

"You tell me, Rick," she told him back, "Just at the same day we had a fight because of a woman we both know there's something else going, I found another one flirting with you. Do you honestly expect me turn aside and pretend nothing's happening?"

"I'm not with them," Rick said in answer.

She shook her head, but said stubbornly, "You're not away from them, either."

"Amanda," Rick said then, "If this's gonna work, you gotta learn to trust me. If you don't—this won't work."

She gave him a look. "Then maybe we really _ought_ _to_ stop this…" she remarked, her eyes staring at him openly in a challenge. He grimaced at word _ought to… _her tone pushing it toward him, daring him…his back tensed, and felt just like he was being damn tested again…with a break up. "Obviously we can't even pass a day without constantly fighting each other… " she said, "_I_ don't have time for this, either."

He nodded stiffly. He was getting _so_ tired of this… tired of accusations, tests…threats… "_Fine_," he bit off, "_Then_ we stop."

Without waiting for her replay, he walked out. She'd already said too much.

# # #

For a second or so, as she looked at his retreating back, Amanda thought she was going to pass out. Her legs trembled and world started becoming of a blur, her head was feeling dizzy—had he just walked out on her—? Even before they'd _actually_ started, it finished…before she could even say a word.

Yes, she'd started _it_ but she was talking, just talking dammit! She might've pushed a bit with ought to, but what she'd said—they were true! She also might've _exaggerated_ a bit with the harem comment, and with rotation…_and_ with the group sex… but in the heart of it, what she'd said was _true_. It was never ending—it felt like the women were lined up to coming at him, and she was getting bored with shooing away the flies. And he was still wearing his damn ring!

But she hadn't wanted to finish it! Goddammit… It'd just escalated quickly. And how quickly he'd _just_ accepted it? Had he just said _fine, then we stop_, like it was nothing. Like what they had meant only that much. Just _fine_.

Anger was finding her…but with it, tears was coming too. He'd taken the quick exit, she realized… just like she'd expected… hadn't he said he didn't have time for this _first_? Perhaps he was just going to Michonne or…this Jessie—god, maybe she'd just put it into his mind too… She shook her head to clear off the tears, but she couldn't stop them… they started coming down. She dropped down along the island in the kitchen, and started crying.

She knew she look pitiful, but she just fucking cared. She just wanted to cry—she just couldn't do it anymore. She'd thought…she'd wanted…she'd believed… God, she was going to make cookies for him! She was going to surprise him! She even thought of asking Beth or Carol's help, she had no idea who to cook it herself—she'd never done any cooking before all in her life aside heating up microwave… but she'd wanted to do it for him—because—she fucking loved him!

And he'd just washed his hands off of her like that!

Okay, then. It was just _fine_.

She started standing up, wiping her cheeks off. This was better. She really didn't have time for this. Sooner or later, they were going to break up, so it was perhaps better this way when things were fairly new. Possibly he'd felt the same too, and did a preemptive strike. They had two houses now, and she could…easily retreat and regroup—hell, if she played her cards well, she could get her own house too. There were still many houses empty in the town. If she had her own place, then she wouldn't need to see his face every fucking minute for the rest of her life.

God, _how_ she was going to look at him now?

Would they try to be _friends_?

No fucking way! She needed to stay the fuck away. She needed another place… That meant she needed a plan.

And _that_ meant she needed to…get on to work again.

She let out a sigh…so much for hoping making cookies.

She left the house and started walking back to Deanne's.

She knocked the door hard and waited until Deanne opened it. The older woman looked at her. "Your offer," Amanda said without much of a greeting, she was done with niceties, "It's still open?"

Deanne gave her a look, and said back, "I've asked to Maggie after you refused."

"And?" Amanda simply asked back.

Deanne weighted her down for a second, but Amanda already knew the answer. "I'm sure we can find her something else."

Amanda nodded, and started walking back to the doors. There was something else she needed to do, too.

# # #

Beth looked at scissors she still kept inside her sleeve, and sighed out. "You done this before?" Daryl asked, and Beth shrugged.

"Not really—" she answered, and shrugged, "But couldn't be that hard, right, huh?" she asked.

Daryl grunted in answer, and Beth decided to get over it. She started cutting his hair. It was time for him to get a haircut, as well. When Beth had seen Rick, she understood Daryl needed it, as well, get back to…the modern times—the gruff beard and long hair were all nice and good, but Beth had missed the spiky short haired man she had first seen at the farm, too.

More than anything, though, it was a _start_.

She couldn't be sure of what, Rick still looked like he could kill with his look, and the set of his jaw without the beard camouflaging it was a sight much more intimidating—but still it was a start.

She slowly cropped the dark locks, starting from his neckline. Daryl was in silence, and Beth didn't want to push her luck further—it was a miracle itself that he'd said okay to this—but they really needed to start coming out of their comfort zone, and the appearances seemed to Beth like a good where to start.

A couple of minutes later, she saw Amanda coming up from the main entrance. She was nowhere to be seen after she had gone to Deanne's office and it looked like she'd been coming from outside. "Amanda, where were you?" Beth asked, and seeing them seated at the steps of the porch, Daryl between her legs, Amanda stopped dead, her eyes fixed at them.

"What the hell are you doing?" she asked in a whisper.

Beth smiled shyly, shaking her scissors. "Haircuts," Beth explained, "Didn't you see Rick's new look?" she asked jokingly, "He's become…handsome again."

Daryl grunted out, but Amanda's face turned to ash. "Hey, are you okay?" Beth asked.

"Just peachy," she grated out. Then Beth knew they had another fight. "Did she give you a job?" Amanda asked.

Beth nodded. "I'll work with the infirmary with Rosita," she said, starting cutting again, bowing her head.

She pursed her lips. "That's a waste of good resources," Amanda said, frowning. "We don't have that much use of nurses.' She paused for a second, "I'll talk to Deanne."

Her hand stopped, as Daryl shot at her a look. "What?" Beth asked, getting a bit afraid of the answer.

"I've become Deanne's aide," Amanda explained.

Beth frowned, cutting the hair behind Daryl's ear, "I thought she asked Maggie that…"

Amanda shrugged, "She'd asked me first, I'd refused, but then accepted."

Beth lifted her head up, "Why?"

Amanda shrugged, "Had a chance of heart."

She started walking inside the house. "Amanda," Beth asked from her back, "Is everything okay? You had a fight with Rick or something?"

Amanda shook her head, and said before she vanished through the door, "No. We broke up."

Twisting aside, Beth looked at her back then returned to look at Daryl.

# # #

They were all inside the house as he'd decided to pass the night, together and huddled on the floor. Even Daryl had come inside this time, to sit with them, finally leaving the porch, and he'd a new haircut too, his long dark hair cropped short, it was a messy thing, Beth wasn't a stylist, but the rough look suited Daryl much better than any stylists definite cuts.

Suddenly Rick wished he hadn't said the woman okay, then maybe things wouldn't have turned like this and right now, Amanda could have sat beside him, not at the farthest corner of the room away from him like she'd been doing since they had all come back inside.

Rick wanted to go and pull her up, and shook her until she had come to her senses…this was stupid, he—they didn't have time for this. Maybe he shouldn't have left her like that. She'd lost her shit again, her fears got the best of her but she was so damn infuriating, and he was so damn frustrated and weary, and he'd been leaving, didn't wanted to get into another fight with her, but she just couldn't let it. She needed to learn not to carry every single conversation into a damn fight, that was what _she'd_ been doing constantly and they _really_ didn't have time for this. In a single conservation, he got accused of being a cheater, threatened with other men then tested with a break up.

If they were really going to do this, she needed to learn to cool down.

He shot her an annoyed look, thinking going to her, but stayed where he was. Tomorrow morning. It'd been a long day today, and he was tired. He'd wait until tomorrow. Then in the morning…perhaps, he would take off his ring and go to her. Even when she'd been out of her mind with accusations, she'd been right at one point. He already knew it. He was still wearing his ring. It wasn't fair to her, it was even disturbing him, and he really should put the past back and be with her. He wanted to be with her… He wanted her to be with him. Her place wasn't that far corner but was beside him like in the car.

Yes, tomorrow morning. He would take the ring off then find her. They would have a talk then, make things clear and _fine_...

A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. He stood up then as Glenn opened the door beside it. Deanna walked into and stopped at her tracks seeing them all seated on the floor of the big hall. "Oh, you're all here…" she said, with something very akin to awe, and turned to him, "You've all gathered them here," the old woman told him.

Rick gave off a half shrug, "You didn't say we couldn't stay together."

"No—of course not," the woman said, "It's just—" She shook her head, and looked at them again, "This's why you should be here Rick," she continued, "why we need you here. You've managed to bring together all these people from different paths of life together as a family, and you're keeping them together," she said, nodding, and Rick felt—well, he didn't know what he felt exactly, that was what he had been trying to do since the beginning—keeping his family together and safe—and it was good to hear the words from a stranger, as well, though, he felt the same uneasiness too—something just was feeling off—all this friendliness…friendly calls, food, haircuts… Perhaps he'd just stayed out really _too_ much. Rick couldn't be sure anymore.

Carl had told him the place, Alexandria was going to make them weak, and Rick knew his boy wasn't the only one. Daryl was having the same intuition, even with Beth's influence, and Carol was like how she was always, wary and protective, and the gun he'd hid with Amanda was still out in the woods. If it came to the worst, Rick was prepared. At the morning, before he was going to find Amanda, he was going to take it back.

"This is what I want from you, Rick, too," the woman continued as Rick turned his attention back to her, "I want you to keep us together—safe. Is it what you're what you're, right? I want you to be our constable, Rick—" the woman said then finally, "You and Michonne." She turned to the older woman, "Will you say yes?"

Michonne nodded, as Rick caught Amanda's look with the corner of her eyes—like it was telling him she _already_ knew this.

Deanne was looking at him, wordlessly Rick nodded. He'd started expecting something like this, too, and he had his own plans, too. This place…this place needed to learn how to survive, how to endure. It had to adapt to their new world. Deanne smiled, "Tomorrow night we'll have a party for you."

Turning to her, Rick stared at her as if she'd lost her mind. "A party?"

"A homecoming party," Deanne corrected, "To…uh welcome you…back to the civilization." It took all of his reserves not to bark out a laugh, instead he simply curtly nodded again, giving a glance at his people, seeing them as startled and wary as he was…

Deanne's eyes wandered around the room then, as well, as if in searching, then she found Amanda at the farthest corner, "I expect you at seven o'clock in the morning," she told Amanda, "We've got much to discuss."

Rick's lips flattened as he grimaced. Amanda nodded. "Why?" he roughed out.

"Oh, don't you know?" Deanne asked, turning to him, "Amanda is my new aide. She didn't want to be your partner," she told him jokingly with a small smile, "But accept being mine."

Rick turned aside and glared at her. The damn woman! The damn woman!

He'd told her to stay out! He'd told her she didn't need to do this now. What the hell she'd been thinking? Just because they had a fight, he would have cast her away—let her be on her own—that was how much she _really_ trusted him? And she'd refused being his partner but accepted Deanne's offer. She preferred to be with the woman, than being with _him_?

The notion disturbed him—worse than watching her with Abraham after she'd put the damn thought in his mind, he felt…affronted…hurt. First her accusations, now this came.

As Deanne left, Rick went outside the porch to cool his head off.

It was never ending with her… He realized he might never end as well, her lack of trust and fears and fierce nature would always stand between them. He let out a sigh. He wanted to help her. He wanted to be there for her, wanted to protect, keep her safe…most of all, he wanted to…_love_ her, he realized, even the thought of her sitting away from him was unacceptable, but he didn't know how to keep her quills soothed down.

Carol and Daryl found him at the porch, too, a couple of minutes later. Rick turned aside to welcome them. "Even when you're wrong, you're right—" Carol said slowly, "This place—this place might get us weak. We need to do something."

Rick nodded. "No," he said, turning back and stared ahead, "I don't think there's anything left in us to get weak," He shook his head, "People adapt to the places but sometimes places adapt to the people, too." He then turned and looked at them, "If this place wouldn't adapt to us, then we take it, and adapt it."

If it came to that, he was taking it. There was no going back from it.


	28. Chapter 28

_A/N: Uploading another chapter, the third one. I wanted to finish this arc before we end the year. Happy reading, and new year._

XXVIII.

The woods felt like home again. Daryl had come hunting, even though there was no need, the pantry of the town was good, but he still needed a bit of clear air—a slow wind blew, and he felt it across his scalp—at his ears more biting and passed a hand over his hair—his cropped hair, a silent growl coming out of his lips.

Though, it wasn't so bad, in fact it looked—he looked much better now with shortened hair, he'd looked in the mirror and seen a bit of himself back in the days, before the world had turned mad, only a bit of white hair had started spreading over and there, and around his eyes there were more grim lines now, still it didn't look that different.

Beth liked too, as well, had told him she was _so_ handsome, and Daryl couldn't help himself but felt a bit overhead with the comment. Chicks liked rough, dirty boys, Daryl had always known that, Beth didn't seem to be an exception. The idea amused him—and he felt a bit lighter, or he was really getting out of his comfort zone, he didn't damn know.

Much of the times now, he didn't know what the hell he was doing anymore, but Daryl felt like none of them were doing it anymore—he knew one thing clear though, that he loved Beth, whole, so that was enough shit for him.

The rest, he was getting along.

That Deanne woman hadn't still told him what was that he was planning with him—he might be the only one who hadn't still been given a job, and Daryl had snorted out the idea—the woman had said she was still trying to figure out him and Daryl also knew _that_ would take a while.

He didn't mind it though, it wasn't like that he wanted to have a job; he'd never had a job before. With the group, he was always the hunter and tracker, the guy you depended on when things went shit, and he thought he was getting that too here, giving out hunting or supply running, or watches… but no, the woman was still waiting.

And _that_ worried him.

Everyone was settling in, everyone except _him_. Abraham had joined the construction team. Rosita had gone to the infirmary with Beth like she'd said. Maggie had gone too, as well, after Deanne removed her from her position, Rick and Michonne being cops, Tara, Glenn, and Noah were at supply runs. Amanda's girls were with Carol as she did whatever the hell she was doing, and Amanda Shepherd, he was sure, had already started plotting something or another.

Daryl hailed Rick's bravery for getting involved with a girl like her. Daryl had known a few girls like Amanda in his own time, mostly with people in the gangs he and Merle used to hang around and each time, he'd seen the same thing; the girls had better defenses. But Rick…well, Rick was different than those bikers and Rick took no shit from _anyone_, but he was still going to have to tame her, just like Beth had…tamed him.

The notion would have bothered him once—being tamed in a relationship, but Daryl had found himself not giving a damn shit—if taming meant having all these stuff with Beth—holding hands, watching sunrise, watching her sleep, listening to her breath, and kissing her, having her—even _fucking_ her, then Daryl sort of wished she'd done it sooner.

And he also wasn't missing the irony that she had exactly wanted to do it but _he_ had refused. Daryl then thought if Rick was really right, being weak wasn't in them anymore, and they could change this place into a survivable place, because Daryl had watched the town later and what he'd seen didn't make him damn happy.

No, the town people were clowns, had no fucking idea what was truly going on, how much in danger they were, and worst of worst, they were thinking themselves were good. All in frankness, the only smart people here were looking like Deanne woman and Aaron, both understanding they had to do something to survive, the rest...they were just bloody idiots. They left the guards posts unattended, slept through the watches, having parties and shit. Rick was going to have a major time putting them into the shape, and Daryl wasn't looking forward to it.

It was a bloody miracle how they'd survived this long, but miracles did happen, he'd started believing them since Beth had told her she loved him whole.

He wished she'd been with him, they would hunt together, treading through the woods like they'd been doing before, and he could start teaching her again, the thought was so good he made an appreciate sound, thinking he would just have her under a tree, too, he couldn't get enough of her—each time, he wanted her more, each time closer—tighter—his eyes fixated on hers as he drove over her, it was the most fucking amazing sight he'd ever seen—Beth Greene as he did her whatever he damn wanted—she was _his_.

He felt himself getting tightening inside his pants, and he needed to control this bursting of lust before they got out of the control much more than they'd already. Still, he wanted her. It was damn stupid how much he missed her, even though they practically passed all days together now, but he still missed her.

Amanda had asked her for a meeting in the morning, and Daryl had already known Beth was going to want to talk to her about the seemingly breaking up they had, so Daryl had come alone in the woods, not wanting to stay there—and good god, if she asked him to talk to Rick another time—god, no. He didn't need that shit again, so he'd tailed back

A crackling sound behind him got his attention. He listened to the woods, for the familiar lurching of the walkers but all he heard was light footsteps—so light, someone of a small stature—He turned around, bow raised on his shoulder, already aimed and roughed out, "Come out now! I know you there."

He waited for a second until he heard more crackling and breaking of twigs, then out of the trees came out—what the fuck!

"Whaddya do out here, boy?" Daryl rasped out at the boy of dirty blond hair he'd seen yesterday staring at him from their porch, "Have ya been following me?"

In silence the boy stared at him. "Are ya deaf or stupid?" he asked, walking at him, leaning down, "How did ya come out?" he asked.

The walls—the guards—the clowns—they couldn't even keep a little boy inside! He shook his head, crouching in front of him, and held his arm, "Come, I take you back home."

Fuck! Why all this shit happened to him? He started dragging the boy, but the boy pressed his feet on the ground, halting. "I wanna come with you."

He snapped at him, "What?"

"I wanna come with you," the boy repeated with a voice louder.

Fuck! "No. We're goin' back—" He leaned down at the boy in a gesture he hoped threatening enough, "You can't be here, boy," he said, "This ain't no game. The woods are dangerous."

"My name is Sam," the boy said back.

"I don't care." He urged him forward, "Move. We're goin'"

"Do you hunt?" the boy asked, looking at him again as they started going back, losing his shyness. Daryl didn't answer, kept walking, so did the boy kept asking, "Can you teach me?"

Daryl grunted. The boy looked at him again. "You cut your hair," he stated.

_Well, thank you, little captain obvious._ Daryl again grunted in response. "My mom tells me I shouldn't make sounds like that," the boy said, giving him a look again, "She says it's rude."

This time Daryl snorted. "I'm ten and half years old," he then remarked, and asked, "How old are you?"

Daryl gave the boy a dirty look. "I ain't your friend, boy."

The boy looked at him suddenly so sad Daryl felt bad. "I got no friends," he said then, bowing his head, "Ron doesn't let me play with them. Says I'm too small."

Daryl grunted again, and asked, "Who's Ron? Brother?"

He nodded. "Don't listen to him," Daryl then advised, feeling a bit odd, "Big brothers are assholes."

Sam gave him another look, "My mom says I shouldn't swear, too."

Daryl shrugged, "Sorry. Don't tell her."

They continued to walk towards the community and Daryl thought to ask what really going on, and he figured the boy got really curious with his crossbow and bored—boredom of a ten years old could be very…dangerous in places like these.

He cleared out his throat, trying to get himself built for the occasion, "The woods are dangerous, boy, there're walkers—you can't come here. Did ya see walkers?" he asked.

The boy, Sam, shook his head. "My dad talks about them, but mom gets mad. Says we needn't to know."

_Jesus Christ!_ Had these people gone mad? Carl was a few years older than him, but he'd killed walkers twice as his age. He shook his head, and almost started telling the boy but his steps stopped when he heard crackling again from their left side. He stopped the boy, too, his hand on his chest, and moved his finger up to his lips, raising the crossbow again. Rick came out of the woods a second later.

He lowered the crossbow. Rick walked to him, his eyes glinting seeing the boy, "Daryl?" Rick asked, looking at the boy and him in question.

"He escaped," Daryl answered.

"What?"

"Yeah."

Rick swore under his breath. "Idiots!"

Daryl walked to him closer, "His mom told her they didn't need to talk about the walkers," Daryl told him pointedly, "He hasn't even seen one."

Rick shook his head, and repeated, "Idiots."

Daryl looked at him. "Where ya goin'?"

Rick moved closer to his ear, "I hid Aaron's gun in a cabin yesterday. I'm gonna take it back." Daryl nodded. "You take him back. I'm gonna talk about it with Deanne later." He shook his head again, "Idiots."

Daryl nodded, "'kay." Then halting for a second, he asked, because it was getting curious, and he damn wanted to know now before all the boys of Alexandria got lined behind him out of boredom, "Hey, do you know what the old woman wants of me?"

Rick shook his head. "No. She hasn't told me yet," he answered and snickered, "Go ask Amanda, I'm sure _she_ knows."

_Uh-oh._ Nodding, Daryl decided to finish the conversation, and grabbing the boy at the shoulder he pushed him forward. "Move."

Fucking unbelievable.

# # #

Beth looked at Amanda sitting in front of her in her new office—the small library at Deanne's house and repeated, "You want us to keep looking for the Wolves?" she asked.

Amanda shrugged. "That was what you wanted, right?" she asked, "They're still out there, perhaps even closer and I'm not feeling well knowing that. They have to be dealt with," Amanda explained, "And I'd prefer the fight to be on their grounds, not on us. Less riskier."

Beth gave Amanda a look, "Does Rick know about this?" she asked, frowning. Somehow Beth felt like he wasn't.

Running her eyes, Amanda shrugged. "I—uh—haven't still talked with him, but he said okay once. He'd understand." She paused, "Besides, it's not his call now. It's Deanne's decision."

Beth frowned more. "You want Daryl and me going looking for them."

Amanda nodded, "Among a few others, yes," she said, "I thought Abraham too, but Deanne put him at the construction crew, which is absurd. We need a sort of militia, Abraham might do it," she continued, musing out, "Michonne can deal with the police stuff, controlling inside and residents, and Abraham and Daryl outside, threats and friends. Rick…uh, well, Rick can be a General over both of them, or something." She paused, "I haven't still thought of it thoroughly."

"Amanda, I think, you're missing my point," she said, trying to be as tactful as she could be. She couldn't do anything like this without consulting Rick first. She understood they were on a break, but if she played like this, Rick really wouldn't really like it.

Amanda sighed out. "Deanne still wants to recruit people and wants to find other communities, too. You see, she's really into rebuilding civilization," Amanda explained, "We could find new people, look for other communities for trade and commerce, and alliances, all the while looking for enmities."

Beth shook her head, "Amanda do you remember what I told you what happened when we found another community at the prison?" Beth asked, leaning down.

Her eyes getting heavy, she leaned over her desk, too. "Look, Aaron and Eric are still going out for scouting, and as good as they're for the first contact, they're still amateurs. We need someone like Daryl who could lead them so _Rick_ wouldn't have another Governor situation at his hands." She gave Beth a bitter smile, "See, I'm _still_ backing him."

Beth sighed in return. "You _need_ to talk it with him."

"Well, Rick isn't my boss," Amanda said then, "But Deanne is. And she's doing it regardless of your decision, Beth."

"I think you're still missing my point, Amanda."

"So are you," Amanda bit off, "Didn't I just say Rick isn't my boss?"

Beth shook her head, "Why're you doing this?" she asked in return, "You just had a fight. You always fight with each other. Go talk to him."

Amanda shook her head stubbornly. "It wasn't a fight. He dumped me! He dumped me so quickly my fucking head turned!"

Beth let out another sigh. "You're exaggerating."

"I'm _not_," she hissed, and Beth could her stormy eyes shining with unshed tears, "He just said—_fine_!"

"Amanda," Beth then said, "You should never threaten a guy like him with break up—even _I_ know it. Why're you keeping doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"Testing him?"

The other woman shot at her a glare. "I _wasn't_ testing him."

"You were—" Beth insisted, she had listened the whole story in the morning, and yes, even though she was surprised the abruptness of Rick's reaction, Beth could see the testing— "You were testing him, and you weren't _even_ aware of it. Amanda, don't you really trust him even a bit?"

"Excuse me!" Amanda exclaimed, "Do you remember the part I caught him flirting with another woman?"

"He was getting a haircut."

"It was flirting, Beth. I know damn well what flirting is," Amanda said fiercely, "And, really, what would you do if it was Daryl instead of Rick? How would _you_ feel?"

Beth's face closed off. She wouldn't have liked it. Another woman—a woman who wasn't a professional in a saloon—touching Daryl's hair, flirting with him all the while doing it—no, Beth wouldn't have liked it, and her answer must have been open over her face, because Amanda shook her head, losing her fury. She looked weary now.

"It's easy for you to say, Beth," she said with a small voice, "You know you're the only woman in the world for Daryl. You could've thrown Daryl in the middle of Victoria's Secret models, and he wouldn't even blink."

"Amanda, I told you you're the only woman for Rick, too. I've never seen him being with anyone like he's with you before."

She still shook her head. "It's not the same. You know, it isn't."

No, it wasn't but Beth wanted her friend not to feel like this, yet she knew if their positions were reversed, Beth wouldn't have been happy with the situation, either.

"You told me how lucky it's to have a Rick and Daryl in this world, Beth remember?" Amanda said after a while, letting out a deep breath, "The other women know it, too, Beth." She paused, "I'm not sure if I can deal with this. It just never ends with him," She gave out a bitter laugh, "So here I'm …dealing with _this_ instead of making cookies…" she muttered with a hiss.

Beth narrowed her eyes at the words, "Cookies?"

She shrugged. "Never mind," she said, leaned forward, "Look, I'm not going behind his back or anything. I don't want to him to get upset, either. He's still…I don't know…He's still whatever the hell he is. I'll talk to him, too. But Aaron is _still_ going out, and like I said, it's Deanne's decision, not Rick's. I have to keep her happy."

Still, Beth didn't like it. "Why?" she asked. Amanda shrugged. "Amanda, I know you. You don't start anything like this without having a plan, hell a couple of plans in motion first. What's your angle?"

She shrugged again. "Nothing really devious," she said, "I need to prove to Deanne my while if we're going to stick around. I need to start building for myself. I can't stay forever with you now."

Her eyes widened, Beth looked at her. "Amanda, what the hell are you talking about?"

Amanda gave out a loaded sigh. "I don't know how many times I said it, but I can't be friends with Rick, Beth," she said, "So I need to get my own place and keep the fuck away from him." She shook her head again, muttering, "I'm fucking hating it."

# # #

It just fucking never ended with her.

The damn woman! She'd done it. She'd fucking done it. He was going to kick her ass. He was going to kick her ass so _badly_ she wasn't going to sit on it for a week!

The gun was gone. It wasn't in the container. She just couldn't stop for a moment. He'd told her stay out of it, let her handle things and she'd gone and done the exact opposite, and now this! She'd come and taken the gun. She'd stolen from _him_.

Maybe he just going to strangle her again… as of the moment Rick couldn't really decide. She was driving him crazy. Just _yesterday_ they were sitting under a tree—she was all settled down—as docile as she could be, telling him how much she trusted him, now this morning she was stealing from him…just because of a damn _haircut_! Being reasonable, his ass.

He was fucking hating it…then he stopped himself realizing what he'd just thought… Amanda's rich tones were twirling in his mind as she kept saying the phrase like a million time…and Rick knew then if she'd been here, he would've just had her right here until he taught her another lesson…_stop being so damn difficult!_ God, what the hell he was going to do with her?

Just like his mood calling them, he heard a crackling sound to his left side, and he saw three walkers slowly limping towards him… His hand went to his machete, but then deciding that his mood just _too_ frayed, too fucking frayed, he pulled out his pocket knife.

When he was finished with the trio, his newly washed green shirt was stained with blood once again, but Rick suddenly found himself it suited him more now than clean clothes. His face was bloodied as well with the sputtering blood, same as his hands.

He bowed his head and looked at his hands, stained with blood and dirt—and on his finger, glinting whitish still stood his ring—looking at it, steeling his mind, making up his decision, Rick took it off.

Then tucking the knife back at his belt, he went to find her.

# # #

As she walked around the wall that circled the town, Amanda realized with a perfect clarity that she _really_ preferred to try making cookies instead of _this_, though for different reasons now. Alexandria had started her reminding Grady, how they'd kept wards unprotected and unaware of the things outside, and she wasn't liking it, guilt and what-ifs coming at her again. The towns people looked as unguarded and dumbfounded as her own wards, though there was one main difference, the wards hadn't been giving off those boastful, silly attitude like they knew a shit.

More importantly the wards did whatever the hell they had been told to without questions, not behaving like children given more power than they should have had. Looking at Abraham at the west side with the construction crew, she almost pitied the man as she knew he was having a field day with them over there.

Walking to them, she wondered how long it'd take to get Deanne warmed up to her _enough_ to give her one of the empty houses because she just couldn't wait to get the hell out of that house. One night, one night of regroup—fuck it, _avoiding_ him was enough hell for her. She wasn't sure how long she could keep this going without losing her shit again.

But she hadn't been testing him, not threatening him with a break up or anything. And seriously it'd been him who mentioned stopping first, she'd just added…ought to. If she'd been testing him, _she_ surely would have known it! And _if_ it was a test, if she'd done some shit on an unconscious level—then sure as hell he'd fucked it up!

She grunted out, getting annoyed again and wondered when Rick would find out about the gun. She wished that thing would've stayed hidden a bit more. She needed to deal with him on this scouting business, and Daryl needed to escort Aaron and Eric before those two brought back to them to trouble. She had other plans for a militia, too, but first things first.

If she'd know that Deanne and Aaron would've thought Daryl being a good companion to Aaron, she wouldn't have done it. She'd taken the gun last night, but Deanna had told her about her plans regarding Daryl this morning! The timing had just gone wrong.

It was going to make Rick mad like hell, and she'd readied herself for that, but combined with this scouting, it would just rattle him further. But the gun belonged to _her_. She'd taken it first from Aaron, and then they'd hid it together, but she still considered it hers. She had a nagging doubt that Rick wouldn't agree with her on that, but she wouldn't care less. She wasn't going to wander around in this place without a gun, and Rick would go and _steal_ another one for himself. She wasn't going to give him _hers_.

Still, she couldn't confront him on two fronts. She was really fucking hating it. It was Deanne's call, yes, but _they_ were still Rick's people. As far as she could tell Deanne Monroe seemed like a good woman. Amanda didn't get from her anything that made her on pin and needles, and her plans weren't that far fetched as well. She had good reasons for every each of them, bringing more people in, finding more communities to trade and commerce but the world had so much weak points now, no one could be sure. Beth had been right at that, when they'd found another community the last time, they'd lost their own. Amanda wouldn't think Rick would like to take the risk again unnecessary, and Amanda would agree on that, as well.

God, she really wished she could have just made cookies. Maybe she just should go and try talk to Rick again, it wasn't like that they were sworn enemies, but it was _always_ her who caved in first, and she was getting bored with playing nice, too, and she had been right! Perhaps the way…uh…she'd expressed herself was wrong, but what she said was true. It was never fucking ending with him, women looked like they just couldn't help themselves but throw themselves at him…_herself_ including.

Anger started finding her again. She didn't need him. She could keep herself safe, she could protect herself. She didn't have Rick Grimes until now, and all things considered, she'd done okay, more than okay. And soon, she could find herself a new house, or another place to hole up so she wouldn't need to see other women battling their eyes at him—lapping around at his every word. No, she'd seen enough of that for a lifetime. She guessed she just was going to have to settle with making cookies for herself.

She straightened her shoulders back, started turning back—heard the shouts from her left side, and turned… and Abraham was beating the hell out of someone from the construction crew…

She sighed, and started running.

"Enough!" she said, getting between them, holding off his chest— and it wasn't an easy job.

"These monkeys—" Abraham seethed, trying for another hit over her, "these clowns almost got our asses bit!"

Amanda pushed him off with all of her strength, "Hey, I said enough."

She patted him at the chest. "You go. I'll handle it."

Giving the man in charge a seething look, Abraham turned and walked away, and Amanda listened to the other man with only half an ear, because she'd already understood that she needed to talk to Deanne to get the leadership of the construction crew to Abraham or another, or else these…_clowns_ were going to get themselves killed…and then she saw it.

From the other side of the wall, where the main entrance was, his clothes once again bloodied, Rick Grimes was coming at her with decisive strides, his clean shaved face clouded with fury and it was scarier now seeing all the fury over his face and a lot of hell _sexier_—and he saw her staring at him too, his eyes turned even sterner—glinting with fury—Oh, well, shit.

He was even madder than she had thought.

For a moment or so, she really thought turn back and start…retreating—but there was something in her eyes saying that she would have been even deeper in shit if she did that.

Well, they just needed to get it over then. She retreated a few yards back from the walls but so the crew over there wouldn't have heard any…unfortunate details of the upcoming fight and tried to loosen her coiling stomach, telling herself she had harder things in her life than facing off with a fuming Rick Grimes.

It worked a little bit and she felt herself getting calmer, forced her lips into a smile—but closing in on her suddenly, Rick grabbed her arm and pulled her closer to him, "Amanda, if you fucking smile at me, I swear I'm going to—"

She cut him off, she really didn't want to hear the rest of the words because she knew the words would turn her on no matter what—and it was wrong yet again as she was coiled with anxiety, she was also _still_ getting turned on by him… "I assume you found about the gun?"

Rick shot at her a glare, but started dragging her toward the house. Amanda sighed. "Before we start this, may I remind you that it was me who disarmed Aaron first?" she asked, "By rights, the gun belongs to me now."

Rick halted on his steps. "Amanda," he asked, turning to her, "Is this a joke or what?"

Amanda grimaced as he started dragging her again. "I took it, we hid it together, and I took it back," she remarked placidly, "The end of the story."

"Are you fucking serious?"

She swept her eyes at him, and hissed, "It's _mine_. Go steal yourself another one."

"You're unbelievable."

"Am _I_ believable?"

They came to the house just at that moment and thankfully it was empty. They'd all gone to their chores so any _embarrassing_ moment that might occur between them wouldn't bear any witnesses. "Shut up," Rick snapped at her, "Just shut the hell up!" He gave her a hard, long look, "Where's the gun, Amanda?"

Standing, she looked at him in silence. With a growl out of his nose, he walked on her and started patting her looking for the gun. His hands reached her backside, circling her waist, and she shook her head, huffing, "Do you _really_ think I'd carry it on me today, Rick?" she asked as he crouched down and started patting her legs, "When I know you'll be coming at me as the _moment_ you realized it was gone?" She rolled her eyes, "Do you take me as a fool?"

"I take you as damn stupid!" Rick shot back, lifting his head up from where he knelt between her feet, "Last night you became her aide, now _this_! Just because you're mad at me!"

"M-mad at you?" she sputtered out, "Excuse me!" she exclaimed again, tilting her down to throw at him a glare, "Y-_you_ walked out on me."

He stood up. "Then maybe, honey, you _ought to _be more careful what you say to me." He gave her a heated look, "You _can't_ test me always, Amanda."

"I _wasn't_ testing you!" she cried over. Why everyone was thinking that? She shook her head, "Rick, I wasn't," she said then, surprised how throaty words had come out of her, shaking, and she realized her lips started twitching—oh, god, she was going to cry…

She took a step back from him and turned around. "It's in the dustbin at the west side of the town," she said, not fucking caring anymore. If he wanted to take the damn gun so badly, leaving her all _unprotected_, fine, it was just _fine!_ "First you left me, now you're taking me my gun, too."

She started walking toward the bathroom so she could be truly alone and would just cry without worrying someone catching her but Rick stopped her before she started climbing staircase. "Amanda," he said, "I didn't leave you."

"Really?" she asked back, turning back, "Because I remember you saying just _fine_."

But his eyes steeling, Rick shook his head, "No—no…Amanda, you _can't_ guilt-trip me here. I didn't leave you. You pushed it. And even then, I didn't leave you. _You_ went to Deanne, you put yourself out there. You didn't want to be partnered with me."

She stared at him as if mad. "Are you a _joke_?" she shot back at him his word, "Of course, I _didn't_. We can't be partner, we can't be friends." She looked at him, her eyes seething, and pursed her lips, "And don't worry," she said, "you _still_ got Michonne for that."

Rick threw his hands in the air, "For god's sake!"

She evened out a breath. God, she was losing it again. She shook her head, "I can't do this, Rick," she said then, "I really can't. You think that haircut was naïve, but it wasn't. She'll ask something from you. You'll see. When she does," She gave him a long look, "Remember my words, _I told you._"

To her utter shock, Rick nodded, "Amanda, do _you_ take me as a fool?" he asked back, "I _know_. I know something's going. She knew who I was even before she came, and she was here for a reason, that's why I played along. I thought I could perhaps learn about it then you came and wrecked havoc."

She shook her head. "Not my fault."

He nailed her with a hard look. "No. You just saw something, assumed the worst, and threw all that stuff on me, accused me founding a _harem_, then threatened me stopping us."

"I _wasn't_ threatening you," she objected, getting really exasperated with it.

"There's something going on," Rick said in return, ignoring her remark, "Right now we could've talked about it, but instead we're talking about _this_. I was taking a stroll last night before I went to bed. I saw her husband. He was sitting all in darkness, drinking. We…had a moment. He called me drunkenly then told me his wife gave me a haircut."

She frowned. "What the hell does that mean?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Right now I don't give a damn, either. What I care is, Amanda, how the woman I…_want to_ be with thinks so little of me," he told her curtly, his eyes capturing hers, and she suddenly felt like a royal bitch… "I'm going to ask you this only once, Amanda," he said, "Do you _really_ think of me someone like that?"

She breathed out deeply, and shook her head, "You know I don't."

"Then why do you keep accusing me with cheating on you?" he asked, "I've never cheated anyone all my life." He gave out a bitter, little laugh, "In fact, I got cheated on. My wife…when he thought of me dead, she slept with my partner. It was at the beginning of the turn. They thought me of dead, got close or anything—I don't know. I—forgave her. I'm not Judith's biological father, Amanda." Her eyes widened as she stared at him, "But she's my daughter," he said, "She's _my_ little baby girl."

"Rick—" she whispered out… All things considered, she would've thought she couldn't possibly love him more than she already did, but once again Rick Grimes had proved her wrong. How a woman would cheat someone like him, Amanda could never possibly understand, even when he was dead. She just wanted to drop her knees and tell him she was sorry, beg him to take her in his arms again, promise him she was going to be the best...lover in the world, but he cut her off again. "Do you really want to be with me, Amanda? Really?" he asked her, and it sounded like a warning, "I _don't_ do this stuff half, do you understand me?"

And she would never want anything more than going the whole way down with him, doing this. "You know I want to," she mumbled, nodding, but told him, because it still _hurt_, because she loved him so freaking much, "You just said fine…" she said, her voice breaking, "you walked out on me just with a _fine_."

His eyes were unflinching. "You're neither Michonne nor Beth, and I'm neither Daryl nor Glenn," he said back, "This threatening—accusing—we're done with them. You _will_ cool down, do your hear me? You'll never _ever_ threaten me again with breaking up. Are we clear?"

She thought for a second telling him again she _wasn't_ threating him, but then looking at his face, she decided to nod wordlessly. "Talk to me," not satisfied with the gesture, though, he pressed on, "I want to hear your voice."

"Yes," she obliged quickly.

This time he nodded. "What you said was true," he went on, "_We_ don't have time for this. When you get mad, you're like a staggering tornado. You don't know where to hit… You just run havoc. First you got yourself tied up with Deanne then you stole the gun from _me_."

"It was _mine_," she shot back with reflex, and he nailed at her such a look she quickly ran her eyes away then turned them back to him a second _later_, and gave him a small smile bouncing her shoulders off a little, "Sorry."

He let out a deep sigh. "Amanda, what I'm going do with you?" he asked, almost exasperated.

_Love me back, _she answered just at the moment in her mind, but outside she shrugged off again. "I was going to make cookies for you," she then told him, and asked, "Do you like cookies, Rick?"

He gave her a long look. "Everyone likes cookies," he said and took a step closer to her. His face loosened up a bit. "Do you know how?"

"No…" she confessed, "Thought wouldn't be too hard. Or I could've asked Beth and Carol…"

"You still could," he said in return.

"Do you want me to?" she asked back.

"I really want to eat your…cookies, Amanda Shepherd," he murmured over her lips, his left hand cupping her cheek as he leaned down for a kiss.

"You're _very_ brave," she murmured back, leaning on his touch, lifting her head to touch his lips, then she noticed it. The feel of skin over skin over her cheek…no touch of cold metal…she skipped her eyes to his hand and checked his fingers… Bare… all of them… They were all bare.

The world for a second turned dark, the ground swayed under her feet, and she blinked—her heart madly beating in its cage—"Rick—" she said, covering his hand on her cheek with hers, as if to feel it, and looked at him… "You…?" she forced out through her tight throat, "T-took it off?" she asked.

He nodded.

"When?"

"This morning," he rasped out, "I told you I'm not doing this half way."

She couldn't help it. She threw her arms around his neck, and hugged him. She was going to make him all the cookies in the world.

# # #

She was kissing him, flitting little kisses along his jawline, laughing with little breathless laughs, still hugging him. She sounded truly happy, because _he_ made her happy, and Rick realized this was how he wanted her to sound like—happy—chirping—these smiles, these laughs suited her better than those derisive and bitter ones.

There was no more disturbance in him, too, he'd taken his ring—after almost two years, he'd taken it off, and it felt…relieved, as if he'd finally let go a part of him, a part of his guilt, a part of his…resentment, and had come free.

He wanted to carry her upstairs and make love to her over one of the beds, slowly, gentle and caring, not like hot, messy tumbling they'd done in the woods and at the barn—he was going to show her how they could do it, too, and he _was_ going to show her, but not now… not…_now_.

Now, he needed to deal with the fucking guns.

"Amanda—Stop," he told her, unwrapping her arms off his neck, pulling back her kissing assault, and pushed her a bit, too, "Stop. I have to go."

She stumbled on her feet a bit, regained her balance, and looked at him with disappointment and confusion. "What? Why? Where?" she asked at once, and he let out a faint laugh at her dazzled expression.

"You're keeping the gun, given that how ready you were getting to a fight with me for it," he told her. Truthfully, he couldn't take it back from her now. Moreover, he was getting the idea that they would need more than one gun. "I'm gonna follow your advice. Gonna steal more from the armory."

"Ah…" she muttered, then she frowned, "Do you have a plan?"

"Yeah, we do tonight," he said, "At the party."

"Hmm…" she hummed, "You're gonna slip off from it?"

Rick shook his head. "No. I'd get attention. They're watching me—us closely," he said, and stopped—"Carol," Rick then said a few seconds later, "She can go around the pantry freely. She will do it."

Amanda nodded. "Okay," she said, "You go ahead. I need to look over stuff, too." She paused, "There's…uh…something else we should discuss, too."

Rick frowned, understanding not liking what he would hear. Hesitance if it wasn't about _them_ usually meant trouble with her. "What?"

"Deanne wants Daryl and Beth start scouting with Aaron. Actually Aaron has wanted it first. They need someone like Daryl out there leading them," she quickly went on as his frown grew tighter, "I'd feel much better if I know someone who know what he's doing lead them before they bring back trouble to us. We need to look for those wolves, too. They still worry me. We need to take care of them, too." She paused, "Actually, I was thinking of a team…I think we need to form up a sort of Militia. The police can't be mixed up with military stuff, it always means trouble. Michonne—" her voice still grew tighter, "Michonne can deal with inside…like Homeland Security, and Abraham and Daryl would deal outside. You—uh, you can watch over both."

"Amanda," Rick grunted out, "It's not even noon yet. Have you thought all of this since the morning?"

She shrugged, giving him a sheepish look, "Well, when I get depressed, my mind works fast."

Rick rubbed between his eyebrows with his fingers. "That's too much for one go," he said, "And there's still stuff we need to do. The security is a mess, today a ten years old boy escaped."

"What?" Amanda cried out.

"Yeah. He got after Daryl. He found the boy in the woods."

She smiled, "Daryl has a groupie, too?" she huffed, "Beth is lucky. She's got small children, I got hot blondes."

"Amanda…"

"Okay, okay…" she told him, rising her hands up.

"All right," he said back, "We wait until we take the guns tonight and talk the rest tomorrow. Does Daryl know about this?" He asked, and halted for a second, "I don't believe he'd like to hear your plans regarding Beth," he said.

Amanda snorted faintly. "He gotta learn to cool down as well," she said, and giving him a look, she smiled at him, "Hmm… maybe you could give him an ultimatum, too. You're rather _good_ at that."

He threw at her another look. Smiling further, she rested herself on him and wrapped her arms around his neck again. "Rick, can you not spare me a few moments? Please?" she almost begged at him, then said, "I'm so turned on right now it really wouldn't take more than…a few minutes."

Pulling back his head an inch, he looked at her, his arms tightened around her waist, "A few minutes…?" he asked.

"_Less_ than a few minutes," she reassured him, resting herself further on him.

"No."

"Rick."

"No.

"I said _please_."

He pulled again and gave her another look, and smirked, "Amanda, sweetheart, _trust me_, you're gonna make much more begging than that tonight."

In answer, she only trembled. Still smirking at her, he leaned down for a quick kiss, and left her to go find Carol and Daryl.

* * *

_A/N: Can I let out here a big breath that I finally made Amanda and Rick into a semi-settled relationship, Rick taking off his ring. Took me a while, but I'm happy they're almost settled in, too, like Beth and Daryl._

_And, Daryl interacting with a little boy was something I wanted to do for a long time, so, another mission accomplished! Their conversation was so much fun for me to write._


	29. Chapter 29

XXIX.

"I saw Buttons again—can we go look for him?" the boy asked as they walked back.

Daryl faltered to give the young child a look, and he really wanted to keep quiet, but he'd already realized that it'd just lead to another question. Sam was still reluctant to go back to the town, staggering all the while Daryl dragged him back, and even though he got shyness, he was chattering away which was making it much more tiresome, so he asked, "Who's Buttons?"

"The horse—" the boy explained, "I saw him with Aaron at the gate a month ago. He looked like Buttons."

Daryl had no idea what that meant, and decided he didn't need to know as well, instead only grunted out in answer, "We go back."

Sam again looked discouraged, as if he really didn't want to turn back and Daryl started to wonder if there might be another reason for the boy's reluctance, other than just boredom. "Boy," Daryl then called out, "Did ya do something back at home?" he questioned.

Sam gave him a short guilty look then ran his eyes away. Daryl knew the answer then. "Are ya worried your dad and mom get mad?" he questioned further, feeling—disturbed. He didn't know what made him ask about that, but something had irked him just the way, making him feeling disturbed.

Or he was getting carried away… but the boy's eyes grew heavier as worry clouded his young features further—"Boy?"

"Dad always gets mad," Sam quietly muttered, running his eyes away again, and Daryl _really_ felt disturbed, "Is it why you wanted to come to the woods?"

Sam stayed in silence. Daryl always used to run off away in the woods back in the days too, whenever his old man got into a fit. It was safer that way, not to be around him when he was in the mood. Something—and something he couldn't exactly name was coming at him—more than only disturbance, but also the anger— "I broke the statue," Sam then said, breaking over his thoughts.

Daryl turned and looked at the boy, "Mother had an owl stature in the gardens," the young child said, "I broke it this morning."

Daryl gave him a long look. "Were ya upset?"

Sam stayed in silence again, the shrugged a half way. "I wanted to play with Rons. They told me to go play with the baby," he said, an annoyance in his tone for the disregard.

The baby had to be Judith. Daryl hadn't seen any other babies in the town. Why this shit seriously _always_ happened to him? Not only he got himself a curious trouble-maker but apparently he also got one with a temper. Though, faintly he still laughed at the boy, remembering his own childhood, sometimes he got so upset at Merle not wanting him to play with him and his older friends, he used to break stuff too, and the old man got really into a fit… again he felt the same disturbance, his face grimacing.

Fuck!

What the hell he was supposed to do now? Was he reading too much? But Daryl was usually very good at reading the signs—and the signs were telling him shit now… Beth… he had to talk with Beth. She should now what to do, how to handle the situation. Beth also would talk to the boy, as well, she was good at that way, especially with helping troubled children. She'd always been so good with Carl before when the young boy had had the worst after his mother had died, and Rick had lost it for a while.

Yes, Beth would know what the hell they were supposed to do.

"Uh—" Daryl said then, "I—I got a friend. She's really kind. She gotta be in the infirmary. I was going to see her. You can come, too, if you want."

"In the infirmary?" Sam asked, giving him a hesitant look.

Daryl nodded.

"My dad works there," the boy said then.

Daryl frowned. "He's the surgeon?" There was only man who worked in the makeshift infirmary that they'd done out of one of the houses, and it was the surgeon that had tended Tyreese's wound last night. Daryl hadn't seen the man, Sasha and Abraham had carried Tyreese to the infirmary but he'd heard.

Sam nodded in affirmation as they saw the walls at the perimeters. He wondered who was at the watch this morning, who was responsible for a ten years old escaping without no one noticing it? Who was going to have the Rick's bite? They arrived to the gates a few minutes later. "Did ya at the duty this morning?" he asked the black haired man, had started sliding the door open to them.

She nodded. "Yeah, why?" he asked, "What happened?"

"This—" Daryl said with exasperation, showing Sam, "happened. He escaped to the woods this morning."

The man gave him a startled look, and Daryl left him there—leaving him for Rick to bite his head off. He walked inside, dragging the young boy, too, "Move, boy."

He decided to drop him by his home and talked to Beth as the boy didn't seem to want to be around his father. "Where's your house?" he asked.

Sam pointed at the house across Deanne's. The house was the second biggest one after Deanne's her own house. Daryl thought being the only surgeon in the town got its own perks, looking at the house It had its own solar panels in the gardens, and there was a small field with tomatoes at the back garden, and even from here, he could see small statures scattered around the gardens.

When they were in front of the house, a woman with blond hair, looking very alike to Sam ushered out, exclaiming, "Sam!" She stopped in front of them, "Where have you been? I was looking for you."

"He was out in the woods," Daryl shot back gruffly, tossing at her a terse look.

"What?"

"He escaped from the gate, and followed me. I found him in the woods."

The woman placed a hand over her mouth in utter shock, shaking her head. "Sam! How—why did you do it? What we've been telling you? Your dad is gonna—" she said, then stopped, as if she just remembered Daryl. She turned to him. "Thank you, uh—" she halted and looked at him in question.

"Daryl," he supplied in.

She nodded. "Thank you, Daryl," she said, "He's…I don't know what happens to him. Sometimes he gets so unruly."

"He's young." The woman nodded again and Daryl shot at her another look, and told her, _warned_ her, "You shouldn't keep the stuff hidden from him. He needs to know."

Her lips thinned with dissatisfaction. "Thank you, Daryl, but I think I know better what's good for my child than you."

Daryl grunted out, and only said, "No, you ain't." He turned and started going to the infirmary. He wanted to find Beth. He'd missed her, and Beth really would know what to do with this better than him, and while he was there, perhaps he would also see this surgeon as well, _look and see_ him.

In the infirmary, though, Beth was alone with Rosita. She walked to him smiling upon seeing him walking inside through the open doors. He fastened his pace too. Beth gave him a quick kiss on his cheek and pulled him out of the porch, so they could be alone. There was no one inside the infirmary, possibly the reason why the surgeon wasn't there, either. Amanda possibly had been right there. They didn't seem to have that much of nurses.

"You came back early," Beth smiled with a gentle smile, "I wasn't expecting you before the evening."

She knew he was getting suffocated in the town, when he was…_trying_. Daryl shrugged off in response. "Got a tail," he answered.

His eyes enlarged a bit with worry. "What? Who?"

Daryl recounted what had happened to her, and asked, "This doctor—surgeon—how's he like?" he asked to Beth.

Beth gave him a look, "I don't know. He seems…tensed, not very friendly, either, as if he wasn't happy with Deanne's decision. I don't know," she repeated, "He just feels—cold and distant. And I think he drinks. He's not drunken or anything, but he smells alcohol." Ah… Daryl sighed inwardly. "Do you think—he's…?" Beth asked, stopped before completing the word.

Daryl shrugged, "I'unno. Jus' the way Sam says he gets mad…it irks me at the wrong way," he said and paused. He looked around, gazing at the empty streets of the town, "and Deanne wanted _two_ constables to keep the order," he faintly grunted, "Makes me wonder why."

Beth gave him another look. "You think she's got…problems?"

Daryl shrugged.

Beth let out a deep sigh then. "I talked to Amanda half an hour ago," Beth said after a while, and Daryl wondered if he was going to be talked into to talking to Rick again, but what she uttered the next got him completely unawares, "she said Deanne and Aaron want us to look for the new recruits and those Wolves—" She paused a second, letting another sigh, "Well, they actually want _you_ to look for them, but Amanda thinks _I_ need to come with you, too."

"What?" Daryl asked, not understanding if he'd heard correct. Amanda Shepherd thought not that it was a good idea being out there looking for trouble, but she also wanted him doing it with Beth? Had the damn woman completely gone mad?

He shook his head. "Nah..."

Beth opened her mouth to talk further but he saw Rick and Carol walking to them just right that moment. "Hey, knew you'd be here," Rick said, stepping at the first step of the porch with one foot, and lifted his head up at him. "We're going to gun practicing," he said, and leaned further, balancing his hands one his knee, "We need to talk."

Daryl knew what _that_ meant. He nodded, and started climbing down, but Beth's voice stopped him, "I'm coming, too." She sent him a knowing look, "I need gun practicing."

Daryl grunted out, but knew she was right, she needed to better her aim—and well, she could never agree on staying behind now after Rick had said they needed to talk.

Beth went inside for a moment to let Rosita know that she was going out with them and came back with her cardigan, putting it on. As they walked out, Daryl told Rick what she'd said, "Amanda told Beth this morning they want us go to recruiting and look for those Wolves," he said, wondering what Rick would say, but to his bafflement, Rick nodded, as if he _already_ knew.

"Yeah," the other mad said, clearing his throat a little, "I know. I just talked with her. She's got some plans. I'll explain later," he whispered as they passed through gates, Rick sending a killing look at the watch, but staying quiet. Daryl wondered what the hell was going on. He would've expected Rick was having a field day with the guard after he'd let Sam escape, and he'd _talked_ with Amanda? Weren't they supposed to be on break, seething at each other with silent glares?

He shared a look with Beth, too, as they passed through the gates. She looked as confused as him, giving a look to Rick then she smiled and nudged at him at his side. "Look!" she whispered, getting closer to him, pointing at Rick with her head as the other man walked quickly with Carol through the woods ahead of them. Daryl looked at Rick, and then Beth, a question mark in his eyes.

"His left hand!" Beth whispered into his ear, "His ring…it's gone."

Ah, then Daryl thought. Beth smiled further, quite happy at her discovery. Struck at the sight, Daryl looked at Rick. He'd taken off his ring and that would only mean… _Jesus Christ!_ Daryl let out a silent breath. Rick Grimes was _really_ a brave sonofabitch, he gotta admit.

"We need to get guns from the armory," Rick said when they arrived to the cabin Rick had mentioned this morning and explained further, "I'd hid one with Amanda yesterday here, but she got that now. We're gonna steal more tonight." He turned to Carol, "You can slip off from the party and sneak into the pantry. They also keep the guns there, right?"

Carol nodded, "Yeah," she said, "It's in a different room, but, yeah. I—I can go to the pantry today, leave a window open and sneak in through it at the night."

"Good," Rick said, nodding, "Everyone is gonna be at the party. We can lookout for you, too. Beth?" Rick asked, turning to her.

She nodded as well. "Yeah, okay." Daryl didn't know how she felt about it, stealing guns, but he knew she was still wary.

"Good," Rick said then looked at them, "The party is a good opportunity for us to see all people gathered at once. Deanne possibly aims for the same thing—has wanted to inspect us closer all together, so I want y'all to do the same, too. Watch."

Beth smiled, giving him a side look, "We'll look and see," she stated, the first lesson he'd taught her for hunting; _always mind your surrounding, always know your environment_. Rick had been trying to do it since yesterday, getting his bearings, trying to read the situation, and it was high time for Daryl to get into the game, as well.

"This surgeon—" Daryl said, because he _was_ the hunter, and would look and see better than anyone, "There's something off with him."

Rick's face turned grimmer. "What do you mean?"

"His boy—the boy I found today in the woods, he was his boy. He sort of told me that his dad…always gets mad. The boy was worried to turn back to the town." He paused, looking at the other man, leaving the rest unsaid but Rick still understood what he was suspecting.

Rick grimaced even further, and Beth said, "He also drinks. I smelled alcohol on him even in the morning."

"Hmm—" Rick grunted, "I saw him last night," He paused, "He sounded drunk, too."

"Deanne wanted _two_ constables, man," Daryl added.

Rick nodded again stiffly. "I'll look at it." He looked at Daryl, frowning, "Deanne wants you to look for new recruits with Aaron. Amanda wants to search for those Wolves too before they could be a problem for us, but I think we need to secure this place first, deal with inside."

Daryl gave Rick a look. "Do you want me to?" he asked skeptical.

"No, I don't," Rick answered truthfully, "But she's got a got a point there with Wolves… If we don't clean our neighborhood, we might end up with problems. For the recruitments…I don't know."

"It's Deanne's decision," Beth cut in, looking at Rick, as Daryl and Carol looked at her, a bit…surprised with the words, but a small smile played over Carol's lips watching Beth, "It's what Amanda told me this morning—" she continued, and Rick's lips flattened, "She said it's still Deanne's decision, and Deanne will send Aaron and Eric no matter what we say." She turned to him then, "Amanda wants you to lead them so they couldn't bring back trouble to us."

"I know. I _talked_ to her, too," Rick said, frowning further, sounding even a bit snappish, "And told her we deal with guns first tonight then talk the rest _tomorrow_," he said with finality in his voice, stressing out the last word.

Knowing the discussion was over, Beth nodded. "Okay. Tomorrow."

# # #

As they returned back, Beth felt…torn, everything with Alexandria was so unclear, and she still didn't know what to make out of it. She felt like juxtaposition, one part of her wanting something, the other wanting the exact opposite, but perhaps they were just going out of their comfort zones, and it felt like this.

Beth wouldn't know, not really, she guessed they just had to live and see it. But she was relieved…at least for her friend's sake. It appeared Rick and Amanda had talked and there was no ring now at Rick's finger. She was happy for her friend, and damn _relieved_ that Amanda didn't need to follow that path now, trying to make another woman in charge happy to build a life for herself. She'd seen the last time how well it had worked, and Beth really wanted Amanda to be happy.

She wondered if she could go and asked what happened—what they had talked—but the notion of talking to Rick on a topic was so…foreign, she couldn't bring herself to question him. Rick wasn't an easy guy to speak in these days, as well, so…maybe she would just ask Daryl again… Before she could contemplate on the idea, four walkers found them.

Rick and Daryl quickly walked over to the walkers, stabbing their blades into the brains easily, as Carol emptied all of her magazine on one. "We told them we're going to gun practicing," Carol said with an eased shrug as Beth killed the last one.

They started walking again, but seconds later it was Rick who came to her side. "Beth," he said, and paused for a second as if he didn't know how to continue, then said, "Amanda might need your help with something. Can you look for her when we're back?" he asked, "She's in the house."

Beth stared at Rick. "With what?" she asked.

"She wants to bake some cookies," he answered "doesn't know how."

Beth still stared at Rick. "She's gonna make cookies?" she asked then remembered what the other woman had said, and smiled, "She's gonna make cookies for you?"

Rick sighed out, "She said she wants to."

Beth smiled even further, really happy, fleeting a look at his finger, "So you two…are together?" she asked.

There was no hesitance in Rick's answer, "Yes, we are."

Daryl and Carol were a few behind them now as if they had understood, "I'm glad," she said, "Amanda needs this. You'll come good to her, Rick." She paused, sending him another look, "She was really bad this morning. She thought she couldn't stay with us anymore. She thought she needed to prove herself to Deanne, needed to make her happy so she'd get herself another house and stay away from you."

A frown sat above his eyebrows. "I'd never let her go even if we did, Beth," Rick said, "She's one of us now."

"She's," Beth agreed, "but she said she can't be friends with you. I didn't understand first, but perhaps she's right. I can't be Daryl's friends, too if we can't make this work out."

Rick was in silence for a few seconds, then said, "Sometimes—I just can't reach her. She's got fears. She knows she can trust me, she _knows_ I'm not that man, but she said sometimes she can't feel it."

Beth shook her head in objection. "Then make her _feel_ it… You can do it, Rick. You're probably the only man who can do it." She looked at him, "Deanne was right about that. You brought us all together, made a family out of us." She nodded, "I'm sure you're gonna figure out something."

Rick looked around and let out a small sigh mixed with a tired smile, "In the department, there were these trust building exercises we had to complete with our partners so we can learn to trust each other," he said, "The partner's supposed to tie your hands first, then blindfold you, and he walks you through in the woods and you have to completely trust his directives, trust him not to fall down at your face on the ground—" He gave out another sigh, wandering his eyes around the woods, "I suppose it'd be too dangerous to bring her all tied up and blindfolded in the woods, right?"

Beth stayed silent at that, the words were innocent, but still they'd sounded…wrong, blindfolds and ties…and as if Rick also understood what he'd just said his face got tenser, and she _knew_ Daryl's eyes were on her back as well. She wondered if they could hear them now, they were coming only a few steps behind and Beth got her answer as Carol gave out a small laugh, and said, "Rick, sweetheart, I think you _can_ still find some other occasions to get her all tied up and blindfolded if it's that what you want."

At that, Beth almost gagged.

# # #

Amanda was getting pissed. All she wanted to do was making some cookies, but it looked the damn thing was going to be harder than she had expected. Beth was nowhere to be seen. After Rick had left her, she had first checked the house, looking for the ingredients, then realizing that she had no idea what she was supposed to look for, she had gone to look for Beth, but she wasn't in the infirmary.

Rosita had told her that she had left with Rick, Daryl, and Carol, and understanding her both possible teachers gone out, she'd asked Rosita if she knew how to bake—but the girl looked at her with a killing look but didn't deign an answer.

It was just cookies! No need to get murderous over it, and Amanda was going to tell Rosita about that, either, but on a second thought, she understood she'd better not to. Rosita was getting not her best days since they'd arrived here—the Latin woman had also started getting the pins and needles that Amanda already had, that soon she might find herself getting dumped for another woman—she hadn't missed the looks Abraham had started giving to Sasha, nor did Rosita.

She felt…bad…she'd been just feeling the exact thing with Rick, the fears and such…and she wished she could help Rosita, but then again, there was nothing she could do… She could just hope it'd work out at the end for Rosita, just like it had worked out with Rick and her.

And it'd worked out, right? He'd come back for her…he didn't leaver her. Okay, he'd given her a fair ultimatum, and a good bite, too, but at the end he really didn't leave her. And he'd taken his ring, even before he'd come to her, all mad and fuming, he'd taken off his ring.

Her insides were doing those silly things again, a big smile over her lips—god, she was turning into a mush, but she couldn't help it, and she wasn't fucking care, either. She was just…so happy. It was like her insides were overflowing, like she had a flood…like a dam inside her broken and everything she had kept hidden inside her since her childhood had come at her rushing, and it felt…fucking good.

Everyone said that being in love felt like being drunk and as of the moment Amanda conceded, it was true; she felt drunk…head above the clouds

She shook her head, really trying to get a grip herself. She still had things to do. First, cookies, then…she had to prepare. Tonight she was going to war, and even drunk with love, she had no foolish notions believing that that party was going to be anything than a battlefield, and Amanda had to be at her best game. Deanne probably wanted to put all of them in one place so she could watch them closer, and Amanda was thinking of doing the same. It wouldn't be her own preference; she preferred to get her bearings, get her facts straight in her subjects' natural environments. Parties were downtimes, and it changed things—you couldn't be sure of what you saw in parties but sometimes people revealed things into less-stressful environments too, so they were going to see.

Either way, she had to be prepared. All the bitches were going to be there and she was planning to give one message clearly for all who would care to see. Rick was hers, and Amanda Shepherd wasn't a woman you would want to get cross with. She trusted him, yes, she did, but she still would feel much more at ease if everyone _knew_ it. And if she just would manage to find a suitable…suitor for Michonne to get her under off her way in the meanwhile, well, she wouldn't really mind it.

She wondered if she'd get him kiss her in the party too, and thought for a second to ask Beth how she'd managed to get Daryl to kiss her like that in front of everyone just after their first time, but Amanda didn't have Beth's doelike blue eyes, and Rick wasn't Daryl, either, like he'd told so. So she had to go old style, get all of her…_assets_ back online.

All in frankness, Amanda never liked showing off herself. She dressed up whenever the occasion or situation called but never felt comfortable with it. She was an attractive woman, she _knew_ it of course. She just didn't like hearing it from the others, one of other many things her childhood had ruined for her, and until now, until Rick, she'd never cared, too, liked enough her ugly police uniform, baggy trousers and oversize jackets, even touching it would've sent anyone to jail, but as she looked at it now Amanda found herself wishing she had other clothes…more fitting to her figure. It was weird, but everything was different with Rick Grimes…every damn thing.

She just wanted him to see her…pretty.

With a sigh, she left for the pantry. They kept all the stuff there, including clothes, ready to be distributed when it was necessary. The town had belonged to rich people, even from the interior designs of the houses that was obvious, so Amanda was just hoping there'd been some Stepford woman with a similar figure who used to live in one of those houses.

Olivia was on the pantry duty, and Deanna had already told the woman they could take whatever they would want to wear, so Olivia smiled at her and walked to backrooms to show her clothes. Then Amanda started looking for.

Boring, stupid, old, boring…too big, overdressed, big, boring… All she wanted was a little black cocktail dress, and her size seemed like would be a problem, she had a tiny figure so most of the dresses were just so big to her. She decided to look for one for Beth, too, while she was at it, going through the clothes. Daryl was over smitten over Beth, wouldn't look at any other woman, but it never hurt to be cautious. Daryl was an attractive man, too, with all his rough exterior and bad boy vibes, and some chicks dig at that, and well, it _really_ never hurt to be cautious. She guessed Beth also would like to look pretty for Daryl, and what was friends for? Amanda wanted her friend to be at her best game, too. If nothing else, they were a team, and she had a feeling that tonight she would need Beth's help at the party. Somehow she always did.

She went through the dresses, and her eyes caught a short floral, flare chiffon dress, blue-green, long sleeves, something that would just go well with Beth's cowboy boots, something just like Beth, and Amanda really wanted her in the dress too, dancing with Daryl—well, _trying_ dancing with Daryl at least, happy… God, something was definitely going wrong with her. She was sounding so…sappy, even in her damn head.

She took the dress, draping it over her arm, and continued looking. A couple of minutes later, she found what she was looking, for herself; a simple but elegant sleeveless V neckline black cocktail dress, only decoration the satin brighter belt across the waist on the same color, but nothing else. It was her size, too, better the hem of the skirt was tailored someone around her height, over the knees but not too short, decent without being overly conservative. She loved it. Next to it, there were a pair black stilettoes, too, possibly combined with it by the former owner, and when she saw red soles—she snickered inwardly, _rich classy bitch._

Now Amanda liked the shoes like every other girl, there was something that made a girl feel powerful with wearing heels, and she liked having nice shoes even though she rarely wore them…but it was so inappropriate wearing these now. They were in the middle of the apocalypse…still… She _really_ wanted Rick to see her pretty.

With another sigh, this time almost annoyed, she took the shoes, too.

The things she did for love.

She started going back to the house. She had to get over with the cookies, as well, the clock was ticking. If Beth or Carol hadn't still returned, she would start herself. It wouldn't be too hard, she guessed, but she wanted Rick, and Carl, and Judith all ate them. If they tasted bad, she could never forgive herself.

Getting closer to the house, she saw Rick and Carl at the porch, and momentarily she stopped—hiding her hands behind. They seemed like talking too. Carl, catching her out at the street, looked at her a second later. Rick lifting his head up followed his gaze, and his eyes found her, too.

She felt her heart started beating fast again—cold sweat running over her body, somehow she knew what they'd been talking about—and a cold fear sized her again—for what she had still no idea—it just did—running through her veins, her hands started tingling, then Rick gave her a half of smile, and she understood she started breathing again.

Carl, giving her another look, turned and went inside. Well, that was…she didn't know, not very friendly, but she knew Carl was good friends with Michonne. Godammit! Her arms still behind her back, she walked to the house. "Hey," he greeted her, his eyes squinted at her arms, and asked, "What're you hiding behind?"

She shook her head, "Nothing. Just…stuff…for…uh…party."

Giving her a look, he smirked, "Dress?"

She shrugged, feeling a blush rising over her neck to her cheek, embarrassed. What the hell she had been thinking? She hid her arms further across her back. In response, Rick leaned to the other side to get a look over her behind and let out a small laugh. "Amanda Shepherd, are these…heels?"

She sighed out, lowering her arms at her sides, shook her head, "I know, silly," she rested against the railings next to him, "I don't know what came at me. I just saw them…and took them."

He gave her a look, "Like heels?"

She shrugged again, "Like the sounds they make."

Rick snickered, "Well, you can…uh…kill walkers with them at least."

Shaking her head, Amanda showed him the shoes dangling at her fingers, "These are Louboutins, Rick," she said, "I _can't_ kill anything with them." She stopped and sighed out, "It's the end of the world, and I'm having original Louboutins," she laughed, "Gotta love this world."

Rick laughed at that, and gave her another look, "I'm sure you'll look beautiful, Amanda."

Her heartbeat started fastening again and she tried to calm down her stomach, hearing the husky drawl in his voice, "Uh—there's a lot of…competition around here for a cowboy with a southern drawl," she said, giving him a look back, "Better show all my…assets."

His eyes heated, "I already saw all your…assets, remember?"

Her eyes kept staring at his, "Not to you, Rick."

"Hmm—" he leaned down towards her, "Do I need to get worried?"

"You—" she mumbled, her eyes still fixated on her, "No."

He was so close to her now. She wondered if he was going to kiss her—she so wanted him to do it—showed everyone what she meant for him… "Good," he rasped out, and kissed her just at the corner mouth—where he'd bitten her before.

She trembled, a bit disappointed, but well, it was better than nothing, she supposed. She gave him a small smile, and started going inside, but before she took a step, he suddenly caught her and pulled her closer. He then kissed her. Shocked, she barely registered the dresses and the shoes had slipped off of her fingers as they made a heavy thud hitting at the floor.

She couldn't believe it. Rick Grimes was kissing her at the porch, just out where everyone could _see_ it—kissing her thoroughly just like she had wanted… Twisting aside, she threw her arms around his neck, resting herself further on him. In response, tightening his hand at the back of her neck, he deepened the kissed.

After a while, she broke the kiss, and rested her head on his shoulder. She felt like she was about to cry, cry like a baby. "You kissed me," she whispered out at him.

He lowered his arms down her waist and pulled her closer to himself. "Amanda, would you _ever_ listen to me?" he said with a sigh, "We're not doing this half way." She smiled at his skin, it must be a dream…it felt like a dream… "Now, get your stuff down from the floor, get in and make us those cookies. We want to eat them before we go to dinner."

She lifted her head up at him, "We?"

"I told Carl you're going to bake us cookies," Rick said, then gave her a look, "He wants them before the party, so you better hurry."

She smiled wider, nodding. "'kay." She leaned down and pecked him at his cheek, "I'm gonna make you boys the best fucking cookies in the world, Rick."

She then bent down, quickly gathering up the dresses and shoes, and bolted inside.

She got work to do.


	30. Chapter 30

XXX.

Like a man struck at his heart, shocked and in awe, Daryl looked at Beth as she descended slowly down the staircase, her hand at the railings, smiling, looking back at him.

Words…Daryl had never been good with words, they always failed him to express what he meant, what he felt, but as he stared Beth Greene all pretty in a dress, Daryl had felt deeper than any time—as if he'd even lost his tongue.

Still smiling at him, she stopped in front of him, and her smile grew wider. "How do I look?" she asked, making a little spun around herself to show him…better herself _as if _he needed it.

She looked beautiful…she was the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen it. She pinched the hem of her dress's skirts with her two fingers, pulling the flare hems a bit to the side, made a little gesture—still smiling, and Daryl just wanted to take her back to upstairs again, throw her a room and forget the damn party… He had no place in the damn thing anyways—especially not as Beth looked this…stunning and _he_ looked like a beast. "Amanda picked it up for me—" she continued, showing him off the mix blue-green dress, "You liked it?"

He gave her another look… He suspected there was even a little make up at her face, her eyes looked smoky, her eyelashes were thicker and her cheeks were poignant—Beth was always a beauty, a natural beauty, but…now… goddammit! His eyes cast down at himself—he was still wearing the same flannel shirt under his leather vest, his appearance normally meant nothing to him, he got nothing to prove—he had never, but as he looked at an all dressed up prettily Beth, he understood once again he was the Beast in the Beauty and The Beast. He shook his shoulders, "You look beautiful."

Even though his tone was still gruff, Beth smiled at him bigger, and gave him a little kiss at the cheek. "Aren't you sweet…" She pulled back and asked, "You wanna change too? I'm sure we could arrange another shirt for you, too."

He shook his head. "Nah. I'm good. Got nothing to prove," he muttered, and swore at himself as soon as the words left his mouth.

Beth's smile vaporized, and her soft eyes hardened, "Do you think I do?" she hissed, "I'm trying to show off myself?"

He shook his head hurriedly. "No… I just meant…" he faltered again, not knowing what he'd actually meant, then grunted.

Shooting at him a glare, Beth hit his shoulder, passing him by, "You're an asshole, Daryl Dixon," she bit off, and walked to the open adjourned kitchen at the end of the drawing room where Amanda was still with Rick and Carl as they ate her _cookies_. Everything was turning into a joke with them, Daryl thought.

Just three days ago, they'd been _eating_ worms on the road. Now, Amanda was making cookies, Rick was having relationship advices from Beth, and they were going to parties, looking all pretty. Even Rick had changed his brown t-shirt with a white dress shirt, looking sharp and finely suited. Daryl knew for the other man the party was a part of the game, and it _was_—but still…

Amanda exclaimed seeing Beth, "Oh my, you look…stunning, Beth!" she cried out, "I told you it's your color!"

Now that sounded like the reaction Daryl had been supposed to show off, too, because Beth smiled at the woman wider, "Thanks."

But Amanda was right. She really looked stunning, and the mixed blue and green of the dress made the color of her eyes shining even more, and he was getting pissed at himself he hadn't told her that himself but she had found it from Amanda Shepherd instead…but…it was damn ridiculous, and he looked like a beast…

Rick pushed the plate with the cookies at the island over to him, and Daryl obliged the silent offer, Daryl had a very good idea for who exactly the cookies had been made—and it was weird—all things were weird now—him in Alexandria—going with parties with Beth, Rick having a relationship with Amanda Shepherd, eating her cookies… and for a moment, Daryl really wished to be back in the woods when things weren't these…weird, when things…were just ugly. With an inward sigh, he took a cookie, sniffed at him… Amanda glowered at him and Beth gave him a look, Daryl then took a bite.

It was actually very good. "It's good," Daryl said, nodding.

Suddenly, Amanda beamed up, her glowering vanishing, and it was one of the weirdest things too, "Really?" she asked, she turned to Beth, and smiled at her, "I had help," the older woman said, "Beth is an excellent cook." She turned to look at Rick, and her smile grew bigger, "Tomorrow we're going to cook casserole with Carol!"

What the hell!

What the fuck was happening over there?

He turned to Rick as well, giving the man a questioning look, but Rick shrugged with ease, but at his lips there was a faint smile as if he was pleased, Carl looked neutral, just eating the cookies. Just right that moment, Michonne walked in—and seeing them all together she faltered in her steps, giving the scene a look.

The air tensed, Daryl could even sense it at the back of his spine. Amanda gave a look back at the other woman, her eyes dark and heavy as Rick stayed rigid, then Amanda smiled and broke the silence. "I made cookies," she said, a fake sweetness dripping from her tone, then closing on in Rick, she wrapped her arm around his waist…"Wanna try one?" She smiled wider, "Rick says they're good."

Michonne stared at them, gesture clear and open, and Rick stayed in her embrace, but throwing at her a side glance, he pulled her closer to his side in response. Michonne shook her head. "No. I'm good."

Amanda shrugged off, her smile vanishing, "Lost your chance, too bad."

The comeback hadn't been anything about cookies, Daryl knew, so did everyone. Including Michonne. Michonne sent her another look, but without a word went upstairs.

Both Rick and Beth turned to Amanda. She looked at them back, and shrugged again, "Well, she doesn't like cookies as much as you do, I guess."

# # #

"Will you play nice, Amanda?" Rick asked over Judith's little cries inside the room as she got ready in the bathroom. The room as he was realizing now was going to be _their_ room. It looked like to him it was the time they started using the rooms, of both houses, settling down and having a bit of privacy because the moment back in the kitchen was still awkward, despite everything, and Rick didn't want it to be.

He wanted this, he wanted all of his family be at ease, too, so…they were going to settle down and watch it… Alexandria was going to be their home, Rick was adamant on that now, more than anytime. They needed this. They all needed this. He looked at Judith in his arms, smiling at his little baby girl. Even Judith liked this place, she had stopped crying that much since they had arrived—and she was going to have a room now for herself with his father, too…and with Amanda.

The thought stopped him for a moment. Amanda didn't like babies…she had already confessed, he understood she had her reasons, too, and even though she'd said Judith was different because she was _his_ daughter, Rick suddenly felt a fear that if she could do it—stay with him and Judith. If she couldn't, she was going to have to move out. Rick had wanted Carl to have another room for himself, too, have a bit privacy as he needed it in his teenage years, but the notion disturbed him with Amanda. He wanted her to be with him—share his room—share his life…they weren't doing this half way… No. And if she couldn't do this with Judith….then she couldn't do… His thoughts were spinning out of control, and he slowed down himself. They needed to slow down, he reminded himself. They were fairly new at this. It wasn't even a month they'd started sleeping—and at the big part of those times they had been on the road, either trying to survive or fighting. They'd already had two big fights and a break up…

He needed to slow down. They needed to take it slow. Since the time she'd come to him asking if they would try to find it out, he'd wanted to take it slow. Amanda got issues, _he_ got issues; they were both keeping it together by a thread, fighting with nails and teeth, so he fucking needed to slow down.

"Play nice?" Amanda asked back from the other side, "I thought I'm."

He looked at the bathroom's door. "That wasn't nice down there." Now, she was again marking her territory, and he didn't mind it, not really, but Michonne _was_ a part of their family, whatever _not_ happened between them. Amanda needed to learn to live with it as well.

She opened the door, "I just wanted her to eat…my cookies, too, Rick," she said, walking out.

…And Rick stared…stilling Judith in his arms, thoughts of cookies, and playing nice and Michonne disappearing off his mind. He just couldn't help himself, kept staring at her.

Rick knew she was an attractive woman, he'd already seen all of her…assets, and she was _his_ type, too, with her slender figure, green hazy eyes and soft auburn hair. But he'd so grown accustomed to see her with floppy, oversize police uniforms and dirty t-shirts the sight of her took his breath away. She must have been the most beautiful sight he'd ever seen for a long time…except of his hallucinations of Lori—all in white, tall and graceful…and though as she looked tall and graceful, too, Amanda didn't look anything like Lori now, not a bit.

She was clad in black, head to toe; the only color on her was the red on her lips. She didn't put on make up much, only black eyeliner and red lipstick but they did wonders with the black dress, turning to her almost another woman…not someone who got brain pieces inside her tangled hair just a few days ago.

He hoisted Judith up in his embrace as she'd slipped down a bit and nodded at her, "You look beautiful," he told her, because she really did, she looked beautiful in every sense of the word.

She smiled at him with content, "Thanks," she said, walking to them, and started caressing Judith's cheek, and lifted her eyes up at him, "I tried hard. You know…competition and whatnot…"

He gave her a look, "You don't need to…"

She shrugged, smiling at Judith—"Never hurt to be cautious," she said, and asked, looking at him again, her fingers still caressing softly Judith's cheek, "She likes this place, right? She doesn't cry much now like before."

He nodded, "Yeah. She does."

She smiled bigger, red lips pulling out sincerely, "She's a smart girl," she said, laughing softly, "Knows where she could have a bit of privacy."

The sight of her with Judith tightened something in his chest, and he asked, "Amanda—do you—uh—mind having the room with me and Judith. I can't leave her."

Her hand stopped, and she lifted her head at him again. "Do you want me to stay with you?" she asked low in her throat.

Rick shrugged off one shoulder, looking back at her. "If you don't mind…"

Her eyes skipped to Judith again then back at him, and her lips grew even wider, soft and gentle, "No, I don't think I'd mind it, Rick."

He leaned in on her to kiss her, Judith between them, but laughing she pulled back from him, "No, sorry, red lips—" she pointed her lips with her finger, "Can't kiss."

Rick bowed his head with a sigh.

# # #

Daryl Dixon was the most stupid, obnoxious asshole that had ever walked on this suck-ass world, Beth had decided as she waited in the house for him to come back whatever the hell he'd been so they could go to the party like the rest of them. Everyone had already left. She was alone in the house, because the damn _date_ was nowhere to be seen.

She wondered if he'd gotten the cold feet again, running away, and she would need to go after him, but for goodness sake, she'd thought they had already passed that. Carol had warned him before she should have been ready of his tantrums—but calling her out like that—saying she wanted to show off herself… Why he _always_ got her at the wrong way, she had no idea, assuming the worst!

And was it really that bad that if she wanted to be pretty, if she wanted people to see her pretty! It was called common decency, it showed that you _cared_! She'd been so happy when Amanda had showed her the dress, not only because of the gesture itself—having someone actually thinking of you—remembering you, believing that something would suit you, but because she wanted to be at her best—because she cared… because they were all trying.

Everyone had put some clean, better clothes, Rosita even wore a dress like them. Rick had wore a dress shirt, Abraham had a polo t-shirt, Maggie and Glenn, too, everyone, except Daryl. No, Daryl just had to be…the misfit he always was, _different_ than them…because he got nothing else to prove… yeah…having nothing to prove, her ass.

Then he showed up, walking into the door, with a new jacket—another leather jacket, looking clean and new—and he seemed to have another black shirt too underneath, just like the old one—only cleaner. Beth stared at him, titling her head aside, "I thought you got nothing to prove," she said snappish.

He shrugged, "It's a good jacket."

And yes, it was, he really looked good on him, too, but she wasn't going to tell him that. She was still pissed. Then he pulled something out behind his back and taking a big step with one leg, he extended it to her.

Bowing her head, Beth looked at the wild flowers clenched in his fist. "I'm sorry," he said then, handing her the flowers, "I was an asshole."

She took the flowers, then looked at him back. "You really look beautiful, Beth."

Forgetting that she was still mad at him, she then leaped on his arms and kissed him. "You're _really_ lucky, Daryl Dixon, that I love you whole," she said, breaking the kiss a second after, "even when you're an asshole."

He gave out a chuckle, but leaned down for her again, but she pulled back. She knew if she let him kiss her again, they wouldn't leave the house for a while, Daryl was having that look again in his eyes, the look that told her he wanted to eat her whole… and he found her pretty, she thought her insides swarming… It made her so happy… she wanted to laugh and showed herself off to _him_… She shook her head, pulling back further, " Let's go to party," she said, "Rick's waiting." She started dragging him outside the house, and told him adamantly, "And as a return for being an asshole, you're going to dance with me."

She just so wanted to dance with him… laughing…smiling… being happy… But he faltered at his steps, "No. I won't."

"Oh you will, Daryl Dixon," she said, pulling his hand, "Wanna bet?"

"I don't dance."

She gave him a looking look, "You _will_, with me."

And he was. Beth was determined on it.

# # #

As they walked to Deanne's house, Amanda tried to settle down her flip flopping stomach and focus on that was important. It was a battlefield she reminded at herself, they weren't having a downtime here, they were going to war, but she walked her hand tugged, loosely looped around his arm, Amanda was having a hard time remembering _that_.

He wanted to share a room with her, and she'd told him she wouldn't mind it—and she wasn't—looking at him, thinking how a life sharing her personal place with Rick and his little baby would be, and she had found she didn't mind…trying it. No, not only she didn't mind it, she actually _wanted_ it. It was going to be so bad—she knew, Rick wasn't an easy person to get on with, nor was she, and the baby—well, the baby, biological or not, had taken that after his father, too, and she knew she was going to lose her shit—but she didn't care. She just wanted it…wanting it so badly it had started scaring her.

But even her fears wasn't enough to stop wanting it, it seemed. In a rational part in her brain, where she usually turned very reasonable, she knew they needed to slow down a bit—they needed time to settle down, it was at the end of the world, and they had been through some real shit together, and both was wanting it…so what the hell… They _could_ slow down after that. It wasn't like that they had much spare room in the houses, too, some people just had to be partnered with others, and why not with Rick, right? It sounded…enough reasonable.

"The boy Daryl found today at the woods," Rick said before they arrived to the Deanne's house, "He was Jessie's boy."

"What?" Amanda asked, turning to him.

"Yeah," Rick said and slowed their pace, as if he wanted a bit alone time for them, before they came to the house, "The boy broke something in the morning and escaped to the woods in fear. He told Daryl his father always gets mad. And I saw drunken last night—Beth said she smelled alcohol in the morning too. Daryl sensed something off… He's good instincts for this stuff, and I trust them." He paused, "He's got his own sonar panel too in the house, a field of supplies at the back of his house, too," he said pointedly.

Amanda sighed out then. It was getting too familiar for her tastes. "It's like Grady all over again," she muttered, shaking her head, "Dawn used to try to keep Dr. Edwards and Gorman happy too. It was easier with Edwards, the man was a pig and coward, but…Gorman was a whole another matter."

He gave her a hard look, and she knew he didn't like it, and she could understand, she still didn't make hew own peace what she'd done at Grady as well. "What did she do?" Rick asked.

She stopped, giving him a look and decided to tell him. She wanted him to know what had happened at hospital. He'd said they'd all done things. She wanted him to know hers too, it was a new start… she was going to share a…room with him. Amanda was damn aware what that meant. A part of her wanted to him to know it, know her.

"What _I_ did…" she told him then, "Gorman was getting unruly. I thought he was getting cabin fever and would cool down if he got a woman or settle down, or something. So there was Joan—she was a beautiful, smart woman, she was a nurse, wasn't one of the wards. I talked to her, told her to…seduce him, keep him happy etc. She didn't oppose, it got perks, you know, not like sonar panels, but she didn't have to mop the floor at least. She sort of liked Gorman at first, too, I guess… So, yeah, _at first_ it was good," she continued, letting out a sigh, "Gorman got winded down, Dawn was happy, and I thought we just had just evaded another disaster after Hanson—but after a while…stuff started happening. He got worse. At some point Gorman had grown too much powerful at the hospital, and it turned on him. Joan wanted to finish things with him. I saw her a couple of times with bruises—not like the kind of you gave me, either—then Dawn just said _no_. She said she had to continue—told her it was…her job…" She let out a sigh again… and stopped.

Rick looked at her, and stated placidly, "And you let her."

She felt a bit annoyed with the tone of his voice, but shook herself out of it. She did what she had to, just like he'd told them before. She still felt what would have happened if she'd stepped in before—if she hadn't been…scared of taking responsibility… but that was another thing.

"Yes, I did," so she accepted, and told him, "I once told Beth not everyone was lucky like her, having a Rick and Daryl, because we did have Gorman, and someone had to deal with him. And we _still_ needed him, and _he_ knew it, too. So it only got worse... so worse that just before they brought Beth, I couldn't take it anymore. Joan was losing it. Dawn was losing it even more—and Gorman—" she let out another deep sigh, shaking her head. "I sent Joan away. I told her to try her chances out there. I was afraid if she stayed she could've killed herself—or worse Gorman did it…"

She stopped and stared at Rick, a sudden thought struck at her. She shook her head. "I'm gonna hate this, I'm so gonna fucking hate this…" she muttered, "You need to go and talk to Jessie, Rick," she said then, "Go and…flirt with her—try to get her open. We both know she came to you for a reason… If there's something, you have to open her up. We need to know what's happening."

# # #

The party was everything he'd ever hated—but he'd been trying…not an asshole. He still felt like a beast next tor her as they stood in the saloon of the Deanne Monroe's house, at the edge, sipping through a soda, watching, but he didn't care anymore.

He was here, the feel of sticking out like a sore thumb was even heavier when all the rest of them got themselves dressed up, but he didn't care. He'd gone and been a prick to Beth again, so he was trying now. Besides, Rick needed this. Carol and Beth were going to steal the weapons, so Daryl had to be here as well. It was simple as that.

Rick was at the other side of the room, talking with Amanda heatedly over something, and Daryl could see that Amanda Shepherd had gone all way done to make sure everyone knew with whom they were dealing with—she looked good, too, in a way showing off _if you hurt me, I hurt you back._

Grunting, Daryl turned and looked for Beth. She'd gone in the kitchen for drinks, and he saw walking out of there a couple of minutes later with a man…goddammit, it was the idiot that got a fight with Glenn today after returning from a supply run, the man who Daryl had tumbled down off Glenn and almost started to take a beating just before Rick and Michonne arrived and took him off of the man. He was the Monroe's big son, a rich dumbass prick who thought himself like a survivor of the town. Glenn had told them the story, making Daryl certain was again the general stupidity of these people, but now the dumbass was coming out of the kitchen with Beth—his drink his hand, laughing at something Beth had said, and suddenly he found himself wishing go there and really beat the hell out of him.

He brought the soda up to his lips, and drank it in one gulp as if he was bottling up scotch. He wished a drink now. The first and the last time he'd ever had a drink before was the time he'd been with cabin with him, drinking moonshine, and he would never drink again now, slip his guards off, walls or not.

If something happened to Beth while he was drunk off on his ass, he would never forgive himself. But Beth walking a bit tipsy, she'd been drinking a bit too much of that punch—and he frowned, walking to them. He took the cup from her hands, glowering at her, "That's enough shit for you tonight," he bit off at her.

Beth rolled her eyes, and came closer at him, "Daryl, loose up. We're having a party," she slurred a bit over the words, trying to reach for her drink, smiling and all.

He pulled back his arm, "Beth," he warned.

She pouted at him, and he just wanted to throw her over his shoulder and be done with it, "Daryl," she told him back.

Laughing, the man gave her his own drink, "Come on, man, don't be a spoilsport."

Daryl nailed him a hard look, taking his drink as well and pushed the glass at his chest, spilling all of its contents over his silken shirt. "Get lost," he rasped out, and grabbed Beth at the elbow and started dragging her away.

"Beth," he told her in chiding voice, "What the hell are you doing?" he asked her.

"I'm having fun, Daryl," she told him back, "What the hell are _you_ doing?"

"We ain't here for fun," he reminded her, "Rick wants us to watch. You're going to lookout for Carol," he told her, "and you're getting your ass off drunk."

"I'm not drunk—" she said, rolling her eyes, "and I just learned a Aiden is an idiot, but—" she said, pointing her finger up, "He's a _funny_ idiot."

"I'm glad," he bit off.

"Come on, Daryl," she said, leaning on further in him, "Loosen up. Let's have a bit fun. There's no rule saying we can't do both. Look—" she waved at her left side, "Even Rick is having fun a bit—" she said, as Rick had just leaned on in Amanda and told something in her ear, and the woman started laughing, "Let's dance," Beth then told him-he snapped his head back at her, "_Pleasee_…." she drawled out…

He frowned. "No."

She gave him an imploring look, "But I want to dance." She took his hand, and swayed on her leg with the rhythm of the music that played at background, "It's not that hard."

"No," he said again, and pulled his hand back.

"Fine," Beth bit off then, "Then I'll just find someone who would dance with me."

She spun on her heels then and started walking away from him. The sight... the way her dress aired up and flew over her as she turned around…the way she walked tipsy—her hips strutting-they all just made him boiling with lust—and he just wanted to throw her over his shoulder for real this time, and brought her to his cave, but then she stopped when she saw Aiden, where the idiot stood with a few of his other friends, and some of them were already swaying on their feet and Beth just joined them.

Daryl grimaced. She sent him a look as if to call him to her side, but he still shook his head. He wasn't going to go to her. If she wanted to play it like this—then fine, they would play it like this, and damn her! She just turned and started dancing with Monroe. His grimace turned into a full-on scowl, but he still didn't move from at his place, and started getting an inkling that he'd been being tested with jealousy, damn her! She had passed too much time with Shepherd!

He stared at her darkly as she twirled around in front of Monroe, her eyes sweeping off away from him to Daryl, looking at him in challenge, and each time his eyes turned darker, sterner, his scowl turned grimmer, and his jaw started hurting as he tightened it, but still he didn't move an inch where he stood.

Then Monroe placed his hand over her waist—as she stumbled on her feet for a second, and stayed there. Instead of looking at the man, though, Beth turned her eyes at him, not pulling back from the other man's touch too, just watched him as he stood there, then the hand started creeping downward—along her hip—Beth's eyes were still on him—challenging him…without a growl—he took quick, long strides, and grabbing her, he yanked her off of the hand, and pulled her at his chest. His arms tightened at her. "That wasn't nice, Beth," he whispered at her roughly as he moved them backwards.

She giggled, resting herself further on him, "You weren't…dancing with me."

"We're dancing now," he said then as he moved them still going backwards, and their tangled bodies and her tipsy steps looked as if they were swaying on their feet.

Beth laughed throatily at his neck, the tip of her tongue just flicking at his skin, "You're very multi-tasking, Dixon," she breathed out in his ear.

"You're drunk," he told her, tilting his head down.

"I'm drunk…on love," she told him back, tilting her head up.

He then kissed her.

# # #

"We need to have another fight," Amanda declared, looking at him seriously in the corner they fell back, his eyes wandering over the crowd, looking and searching. Watching.

And every time told himself he couldn't be surprised by her anymore, Rick was stood corrected. First she just told him to go flirt with Jessie, like it hadn't been herself throwing a fit just yesterday because of that, now she declared they needed another fight. His eyes skipped at her, and she gave out a sigh. "Well, you gotta have a—uh-a common point, to whine at each other," she shot back, pursing her lips, "You can tell her how _unbelievable_ I am—how hard it's to get on well with me—that I never listen to you—start fights out of nothing—" She shook her head, "bla bla bla…"

Twisting his head, Rick gave her a full look this time. "What?" she asked back, "We're trying to building trust between you," she went on, and Rick almost snickered, "If we want her to open up to you, she needs to trust you first. Common experience builds trust."

He shook his head back at her, "You know that's really rich coming from you," he shook his head, "Building trust."

She rolled her eyes, "Please, _don't_ start. We're working now."

He gave her another look, a long one. He guessed he just needed to admit this was also the woman he wanted to be with it. After everything she told him about the hospital after what Noah and Beth had already told, Rick had started to understand that manipulative, scheming nature was a part of her, too. She'd been always depended on her to take care of herself since her childhood, and Rick really needed find a way to break through it, _build trust,_ to make her feel it, not just know it or he had an inkling of that inability would be their downfall, not today, nor tomorrow, but one day.

And, he couldn't let that happen, he just couldn't. He…didn't want to.

Daryl found him as he opened his mouth and asked how, dragging Beth, securely pressed at his sight as the young girl faltered at her steps. Amanda laughed beside him, red lips pulling out with amusement, "Is she…is she drunk?"

"Tipsy—" Daryl said back, "I'm taking her back to house," he told them, "Are you okay?"

Rick nodded, "Yeah. You go. We take care of the rest."

"Carol?"

"It's okay—she's about to leave now," Rick said, nodding at Daryl, "We'll see you in the morning at the cabin."

Daryl nodded, and started for the door too. Amanda sighed next to him, watching them leave, then her eyes caught Jessie at the door, and she grimaced. "Rick—you'd better made my worth while tonight just like you'd promised this morning, because I'm going to fucking hate this!" she seethed between her teeth, glaring at the woman, then turning aside, she looked at him, gripping the glass in her hand tighter, and threw at his chest.

"FUCK YOU, Rick Grimes! FUCK YOU!" she yelled at him as Rick looked at her shock, the punch dripping over his open shirt through her skin—every eyes in the room at them, and Amanda threw the glass just at the wall next to him too, as if throwing a drink at his face wasn't enough, "I'm NOT going to speak to you ever again!"

Then she turned around and stormed off.

Still in shock, despite knowing it had been a ruse, Rick just looked at her as she left the house, banging the door behind her back. Sasha giving him a look, shaking her head as if disgusted walked to the door and left the house, too. Rick turned to the others. "What?" he bit off, "_What_?"

Michonne gave him a look, too, but Rick just pretended he didn't notice it. Jessie then walked to him as he grabbed a napkin from the table beside them and started wiping his shirt. "She's…she's always like that?" the woman asked, looking at him with pitying eyes.

Was she? Rick somehow found it hard to answer. She'd never thrown a drink at his face before—but somehow Rick had thought the prospect wasn't so out of the question… "She's…she's… lost it sometimes."

Jessie gave him another look, "Jealous?"

Rick shrugged off, and snorted, "What did it give away?" He sighed, shaking his head, "I just—wanted to talk."

Jessie sighed back, too, "It's impossible to talk, and fights start out of nothing, right?" She shook her head, as well, "I know the feeling." Rick gave her a look, and Jessie gestured backside with her head, "This's…this's nothing of yesterday, right?" she asked, "she…she didn't look like happy there."

"It was hard for us on the road—" he said, and stared at her, deciding probing, "I—I—uh-saw your husband, too, last night. He—he didn't sound very happy, either." He gave her another look, "I—I wouldn't—want to cause any trouble…"

Jessie shook her head. "It was hard for us too…here…" she said back, "Pete…he's lost it sometimes, too." She cleared out her throat, "He drinks. He was…drunk. I heard what he told you."

Rick walked on in her in response and fixed his eyes at hers. "Jessie, why did you come yesterday?" he asked openly, leaning further, "I _know_ it wasn't just because you're a good neighbor. What's that you're afraid of?"

Her husband had just walked into the house at the moment too, and Jessie flinched back from his proximity, looking really scared, and shook her head, and started walking away, just before she whispered at him, "You have to be careful. There people here who are afraid you'll disturb their…comforts."

That, Rick, had already started to understand.

After Jessie had left him, Rick had stayed, circling people—looking for Carol. Carl was with Judith, he walked to Carl, and took Judith. "Are you okay, dad?" Carl asked.

Rick nodded, "Yeah. It's nothing."

"You had a fight with Amanda again?"

Rick grunted out. Even Carl knew how much they had been fighting. Carl was…skeptical. He hadn't told him anything, just told he wanted cookies before the party when Rick had told him she was going to cook for them, but Ricks still knew Carl had his own doubts. Rick would barely judge him. "No. Not really," he told his son, "I'm gonna explain tomorrow."

Carl shrugged, looking at the young girl he'd seen here—and Rick smiled. "Go and talk to her," Rick encouraged, catching his son's look.

Carl shook his head, "No. Every time we try to talk, she…bites my head off."

Hopping Judith in his arms, Rick laughed, "We Grimes ain't afraid of ladies' bites, son."

Carl rolled his eyes at him, "Yeah... I can see that, dad," he told Rick, eyeing his wet shirt—pinkish white at the collar. Sighing out, he left Carl, looking for Carol.

He wanted to go now so he could talk to Amanda—because it seemed like they really had to talk… He saw Carol half an hour later, waltzing inside as if she was afraid of stepping in anyone's feet. Carol was almost as good as Amanda with this, plotting and scheming, and thinking what they'd gone through together made things clear in his mind further. It'd been Carol at the end who had saved them at Terminus, had saved Judith, too. Rick walked to the older woman. "Hey, did it?"

Carol nodded.

Rick nodded back. "I'm leaving," he said, and asked, "Can you—mind taking care of Judith for tonight?" He cleared his throat, "I—I need to talk to Amanda."

Carol gave him a knowing look with a smile. "Building trust?"

Rick let out a faint smile, "Yeah."

In answer, Carol took Judith from him in silence, still smiling.

Back at the house, without talking to anyone, went to upstairs and found her packing back and forth in the room. "Oh! You came back! What did she say? What did you talk? Did he—" she stopped, "Where is Judith?" she asked, catching that he had come alone.

"Carol will take care of her tonight," he told her, bringing her to the bed, "We need to talk."

He settled her down on the bed and sat himself down, too. She smirked at him, twisting aside to climb over his lap, "Got a better idea, let's put your tongue on a much better use…"

She leaned down on in him, grabbing her waist, he pushed her backward. "No, if we don't deal with this," he told her, looking at her, "one day you're really going to break a glass, not at the wall but at on me."

She shook her head. "Rick—I didn't mean it."

"I know you didn't, Amanda," he said back, "But you need to start doing some trust building for me, too."

She huffed, "I trust you. You know I do."

"You know it—with here—" he said, touching at her temple with his fingers, "not—here—" he lowered his hand and touched her heart, "and you have to…You have to feel it, Amanda… You have to."

She nodded, looking at him, "I don't know how."

He looked at her back, "Do you trust me?"

She laughed at that silently, "Irony isn't your strongest suit, Rick."

"This isn't irony-" he told her, "This's me asking you if you'll give yourself completely to me-trust me enough to be vulnerable—" he continued, his eyes still on hers, "I want you tie your hands and your eyes, Amanda, then we'll have sex."

Her face grimaced. "At your mercy?" she spat, pushing herself back, and stood up, "No. No." she repeated, shaking her head, "You want to play rough, fine, we do it. I like it. But not that crap…I'm not your plaything, Rick."

"Amanda—you're not," he said, standing up, too, "and I don't want to control you… I want to help you…"

"Yeah… I'm seeing how much you want to help," she snickered.

He shook his head. "Amanda, this isn't about sex—" he told her then, "this is about trust, trusting someone enough to be vulnerable." He walked close to her again, "Didn't you do blindfolded walks throughs in the department?" he asked.

She gave him a look. "Yeah… Is this what you want?"

"The woods are too dangerous, we can't go out like that—" he shrugged, "So—"

"So you want to tie me up and fuck me…" she completed for him, "How very _convenient_."

"It was Carol's idea…" he muttered.

"What?"

Rick shrugged, "Amanda—"

"I hated them… I hated each of them… I could only stomach those stupid things because I had to!"

"I know… that's the whole idea, baby," he held at her waist again, "That's why we can't go rough. You _like_ it. You're not uncomfortable with it. We need to do _this_," he told her, "And you'll like it…you will_ not _hate it. _Just_ trust me."

She let out a sigh then turned her eyes at him, "You really better make sure of that, Rick," she said, and reached out her hands towards him.

Starting unfastening his belt, Rick nodded at her, "I will," he promised.

He then held her hands and started tying them with his belt.

# # #

She must be mad doing this…or she was really in love, she couldn't decide, but as her hands tied tightly with his belt, and her eyes blinded with the belt of her dress, Amanda felt it didn't matter—she was afraid—she was damn scared, even though she _knew_ he could never hurt her—but it just felt—disturbed—too, vulnerable, and then again, that was the point…giving herself to him…accepting…feeling…

He was kissing her side…she was lying on her side in the darkness—and she felt him across her back—spooning her in his embrace, and it wasn't so bad—she could do this…she could open herself and let him in…she wanted to do it…god she so wanted to do it…

His hand was slowly caressing across his belly as his lips climbed over her neck…and yeah…she could do it…Oh god! she gasped, suddenly feeling his other hand at her back…making circular sweeps at her back entrance…

She tensed, and tried to pull away from his touch, "Rick…" she said, "No… I don't like it."

She never liked it…_never_… it was too much of a hassle for a girl, and wasn't even that much fun, even disturbing having anyone that much of power over your body, but guys did, she knew. She also knew every girl she'd ever known only tried it because their significant others wanted, yielding to them, and Rick's hand behind her entrance made it only worse, she felt stringing like a strained bow… this was too much, just so fucking too much, and she just about to tell him that too, but he whispered into her ear, "I know—you don't like it, I noticed it. It's okay. We'll try—but I can stop if you don't want me to. But you'll like it, Amanda, just trust me…"

The damn words again… She was just hating it… not truly hating as he kept still caressing her, kissing her lightly whenever he didn't speak— She felt torn in two…and wondered if that was what she was supposed to feel, too… "You won't like it at first," Rick went on truthfully, "It _will_ hurt. Just bite me when it's too much," he said, smiling at her skin, "I can take your bites…they don't scare me…" His hand went further—just above her pelvis, and his finger fluttering… she gasped again, "Then it'll start getting better—I promise… as you relax and open yourself…" his fingers dived into her depths, and she held on his arm, her breath hitching, and despite of her reluctance she was wet, so fucking dripping wet, she was almost ashamed… "If you just give yourself to me… it's only gonna be better, baby…"

Baby… he'd called her baby the second time, and Amanda for a second wondered what she _could_ do to make him call her with that on a regular basis, and gasped at the thought or just because his fingers found her clitoris and started playing with that little bundle of nerves… she didn't know… she didn't fucking care, either… She just… "Rick—" she breathed out in the darkness, but stopped because she didn't damn know what else to say…

"Trust me…" he whispered at her, too, his other hand starting playing with her.

She didn't know if she said anything after that—she just let herself to him—to do whatever he damn pleased with her. She just could lie on her side in his arms and let him to take care of her... She wondered if she was drunk or he'd given her _something_. She didn't really feel like herself…but Rick would never do that to her… she knew it…she _felt_ it… somewhere in the dizziness, it started hurting—really hurting—god, he was holding her tightly—trying to hush her down as he body started pulling away from him on reflex, and he was still trying to push in—further…deeper...and it just hurt so much… so holding on his arm, she bit him at his upper arm, twisting aside. The motion let him even deeper inside her bottom and she bit even further… And it was insane… she wanted him to stop and she wanted him never stop…never _ever_ again… She didn't damn know what she wanted anymore…

"Rick…" she called out, as he pushed in her…"I—"

"Yes—tell me, baby—" he whispered at her between the grunts.

Tell him…tell him what? She shook her head, trying to raise her tied hands, but they were pinned down somewhere down at the mattress as she was pushed down on it… and she was trapped…but she wasn't afraid... "Rick—" she called out at him… and the words faltered at her lips… "Please…"

"Amanda—" he rasped out at her… "Tell me… you can tell me everything…"

What the hell she wanted to tell him? That she loved him…? Rick _already_ knew it… She was feeling it… it was rushing through her body like a wildfire…burning her, spinning her head…as he drove in her back and forth as his other hand worked on her clitoris… and he was good at his word. She was going to come, she knew, she was riding on a climax, and he was making her beg to him in muffled sounds. He'd brought one hand over her mouth to silence her, but she was still begging… just like she had so many times thought of it… dropping on her knees and cried at him…but for what? She never knew…she just never did…

Snapshots flashed behind her eyes in the darkness… Rick with Carl, holding the young boy at his shoulder, smiling down at him, and then again him this time with Judith…hopping her in his arms, smiling at his little baby…and them together this evening—her caressing the baby's soft cheek—and he was leaning towards for a kiss—the baby between them…and it felt like…felt like they were a family, and how much she fucking wanted it… Then it was there, drilling inside her, and she had no where to run anymore, he got her all tied up between his arms, and she didn't want to run too, she wanted to accept it…she just so wanted it…it was killing her slowly.

She tilted her head away from his hand over lips, "Rick…" she said, breathing deeply, coiled—everything inside…everything inside her flooding…then she let it go… she finally let it go completely and accepted it... "Rick… I want… I want to have your baby," she cried at him, "_Please_."

# # #

He stopped…the world stopped with him…hearing the words… begging… he looked at the woman between his arms—as he had her completely at all ways down…broken completely her reserves… and what he'd found… His heart was still beating madly—he'd been having the wildest—the most intimate sex of his life... "_Please_…" she whispered at him again…

He reached out and yanked off the satin belt he'd used to tie her eyes…and looked at her eyes as she blinked at him…unfocused and heavy—and they looked at each other for a second that felt like a lifetime… and then Rick knew it.

He pulled back from her back, slowing down his pulse, twisted her around on her side to her back on the mattress, and started kissing her. He pushed her tied arms above her head, nestled himself between her legs and he pushed himself in her… and started giving her what she wanted. Because he wanted it, god knew, he so wanted it, too… He wanted her to have his baby.

He was going all way down with it.

* * *

_A/N: So, it happened... while I was writing, Amanda just did that...begged Rick to have a baby. I was playing with the idea before, making them both feeling it...Amanda swooning every time she sees Rick with Judith, and that's what happens, I guess, when you're having shit times at the end of the world... I'd read once that in the war times the birth rates go up up too, (not only rapes...that's another thing unfortunately) but the desperation of the situation makes the most basic human instincts go crazy; survival and reproduction. Amanda is also about the age too, in early thirties, so it happened like... you fall in love, and it's like... "let's make babies!"_

_This chapter was fun, Daryl is being jealous, Beth being drunk...and playing with his jealous and all... Oh well, good ol' party times._


	31. Chapter 31

XXXI.

As she breathed raggedly in the silent room, Amanda lay still on the bed, gazing at the ceiling, as if cast off stone, too appalled even to move an inch after she had settled down from her frenzy and come back to the world.

What the hell had just happened? What she had done? What _he_ had done?

Though she could feel it, slowly, almost lazily slipping through her depths, creamy and dense gliding between her legs… Oh, dear god! What they had done? _What_ they had done?

For a second, she thought of jolting up and running away in the bathroom, her breath hitching, panic started rising inside her…bewilderment leaving itself fright and scare, no, no, no, they couldn't do it. They couldn't. It _wasn't_ right, bringing a child into this world…no, she couldn't do this… she couldn't. She had no rights, no rights to condemn anyone to this hell… For a long while she used to wonder why her own mother had wanted to give birth to her, had wanted a child only to leave her just afterward at the hospital, deserting her to a life she could never be truly safe. She couldn't do this. She couldn't do it to her own child! What the hell she would tell her child if her baby asked her _why _like how she'd wanted to ask her own mother so many times before? _Why did you bring me into this hell?_

The only answer she could find…was that she wanted it. She wanted to have a baby, _Rick's_ baby, and she didn't even know _why_ exactly? She felt tears in her eyes, and her cheeks were already wet though she wasn't sure if she had cried while coming in his arms or it was just perspiration. She knew she could move now…It wasn't right, it was just _not_. So she had to do something about it…like she always did. Yet, she still couldn't move, like her whole body was tied down, not just her hands. She kept lying there, breathing heavily, staring at above, thoughts in her head, tears inside her eyes.

Rick finally started moving beside her, lying on the bed. She expected he at least would come back to his senses, and would order her to go wash herself, would tell her he was going to deal with it...would _stop_ this madness, would force her hands, this was madness, they had no rights…Rick must know it as well. He would put an end to this… but he just turned and looked at her instead. He then pushed himself on his one elbow and started untying his belt from her tied hands in silence.

His eyes were on her all the while as she stared at the ceiling, unable to meet with his gaze. She couldn't look at him. She was…scared… but she wasn't sure if it was for not seeing what she just expected or just she _might_ see it. Everything was so confused, and she still didn't know a damn thing. When her hands were free, she tried to turn around to lay on her other side so she could have a bit of privacy. Even retreating to the bathroom seemed such a hard thing to do… She started turning but he stopped her, holding her shoulder.

"No…lay still—" He pushed her back on the mattress, "You shouldn't move for at least ten minutes…" His other hand went to his right side and he picked up his pillow, "We need to keep it inside you," he said, and started tucking it under her hips.

Her heart skipped a beat, and her breath turned even more ragged at the gesture. Her eyes found his this time. "Rick…" she breathed out as the edge of the white pillow raised her hips a bit higher, running his seeds deeper inside her… Her head started spinning… It was madness, pure madness… "Are—w-we really going to do this?" she asked.

He stared at her deeply, and asked back to her for another time, "Do you want _us_ to stop?"

Then Amanda knew. Despite everything, the answer was still the same. For that question, her answer was _always_ the same. She didn't want them stop. She'd never wanted them stop, _never_. She just wanted this, even if it was wrong… She wanted a piece of him growing inside her. Everything—_everything_ she'd ever had was so…ugly, so barren, so…meaningless, but if she had Rick's baby…create that beautiful, innocent thing with him…then perhaps the emptiness she'd always felt would finally be filled…and their baby would make them a real family… something she'd never had but always secretly yearned for…every time she saw Rick with Carl and Judith, something inside her was crying silently. But it still didn't feel right…it felt…_selfish_. She always thought herself a selfish woman, and it'd never bothered her before… but was she really this selfish? Wanting a child into this hell to fulfill her insecurities?

"I want it so much, Rick…" she whispered out through her tight throat, wishing he could understand, "But it doesn't feel right…" She paused. "Whitney said the world belongs to them now, not to us. We're just trying to survive in it, trying to make it. But bringing a child into this hell just because we _want_ it…" She shook her head again, running her eyes away, titling her neck aside. "I don't know… it feels selfish…"

Rick cupped her cheek and made her look back at him. "Amanda, listen to me," he called out at her, "It isn't selfish. This world doesn't belong to them. We're here, too, and we're _not_ going anywhere," he said firmly, "Remember what I told you in the barn. We do what we need to, then we get to live. This _is_ getting to live part. Alexandria is gonna be our home, I promise," he rasped out in a whisper, "then we'll get to living. Together. All of us."

As he spoke, his eyes still fixated on hers, his hand moved down and he rested it across her stomach. Just feeling it there, his callous palm stretching over her skin made her tears break slowly. "Do you _believe_ me?" he asked, leaning down on her.

In answer, she kissed him. She believed nothing but him.

# # #

Finished with dressing up, Rick sat at the edge of the bed and watched Amanda sleep sprawled on it… It was the first time he'd ever slept in a bed after a long time. It was the first time he'd _shared_ a bed with another woman than since his wedding, and he'd tried to knock her up whole night, _truly_ worked on it.

He was going to have another baby, be a father again. The thought was strange, but he felt no disturbance, as if he'd already known they would come to this point. Amanda's place was with him, even the notion of her sitting at the farthest corner from him had disturbed him so deeply, and he'd wanted her with him in the same room…with him and Judith…

He knew they had to slow down, but apparently they weren't _able_ to do it… every time he told himself he was going to take it slow, somehow he always did the exact the opposite, took it even further. Rick knew where this was going, and felt no disturbance, too. Amanda was going to need time to recuperate, she was questioning herself, had even called her desire to have his baby selfish, but Rick already knew.

He'd already had this fight with Lori before, but their circumstances were different now. They had Alexandria. He was going to put this place into a shape, and they would get to living, as he'd promised to her. _All of them, together_. Amanda wanted it, she needed it. She'd already confessed it, so Rick was going to give it to her. He was going to give her whatever she needed. He put his hand over her hair, and passed his fingers lightly through her hair. He wasn't going to fail her. He'd lost Lori but he wasn't going to lose Amanda. He wasn't going to lose another woman he loved… and he loved this frustrating, scheming, feisty witch with quilled skin but not-so-cold heart, he would've never done what he did otherwise, and she loved him back, too, he also _knew_… he'd realized it with such a clarity last night there was no room left for any doubt in his mind, not after seeing her like that…completely giving herself to him… wanting his child…

The thought—the notion was enough to get him hardened again. He wanted to have her again, empty himself inside her depths… there was something that made a man feel incredibly…powerful to have a woman like Amanda Shepherd like that, being able to break her walls, being able to open her up thoroughly… knowing that she belonged to him in a way no one else would have had her… His heated eyes wandered over her naked form sprawled under the sheet. She looked peaceful now as she slept…her quills settled down…her claws pulled back like a satisfied, well-cared, tamed big cat. He shook his head, slightly disturbed of the feeling, but he was well aware of it, like he was well aware of his capacity for violence, and he wondered that was another part of him, too, a part that had stayed hidden until now. Amanda wasn't Michonne, wasn't Beth, and she wasn't Lori, either. Lori had never been shy off pushing off his buttons, yes, but Lori was passive aggressive, depending on other people… Amanda would've never given herself to his supposed best friend for comfort and support if she thought of him dead… he _just_ knew it.

The thought had come up into his mind so sudden, his hand halted in his hair. He'd felt so much guilt for not being there for Lori, for not protecting her…failing her…but that bitter truth was still there, somewhere underneath and his feelings for Amanda just pushed them up into his conscious—Rick shook his head again. It was the past, this was now, and he was doing this Amanda, the woman he'd somehow fallen in love. He should stop thinking of what had happened, but concentrate what _would_ happen.

He'd promised her. He'd promised her a life—a _real_ life…and he was going to give it to her, to all of them… This world didn't belong only to the death. _They_ were still here.

And he had things to do. He shook her slightly at her shoulder.

Waking up, Amanda opened her eyes and looked at him. "Hey…" he slowly murmured, pushing her hair out of her face, and gave her a faint smile, "How ya feelin'?" he asked.

Pushing herself up, bracing her palms on the mattress, she sat up and rested her back at the headrest of the bed. "The same…" she muttered, giving him a half of an eye roll, "Are you expecting me having morning sickness from the first day?"

His smile grew a bit wider, and he felt much better seeing her getting to her usual...annoying self, "We don't even know if I'm…" Her eyes rose at him as she faltered, and he frowned.

He didn't like that possibility. He wanted this as much as she did. "The infirmary might have some tests," he said, "You might take them later."

She nodded, and looked at him up and down, "Civil look?"

He nodded at his brown shirt and jeans, "Yeah. The…uniform…I don't think it suits me anymore."

She sighed out, "I know what you mean," she said, and gave him a small smile, "I like you better in shirts and jeans, too."

Rick's lips pulled back in reflection, and for a little while he wondered how things would have been for him if she wasn't here…and he didn't like those possibilities, either. "After I take the guns from Carol," he told her, "I'm going to talk to Deanna. Wait for me there. Glenn is going on another supply run for power grids, and we need to get him lead the runs before those idiots get themselves killed." He paused, thinking over his plans, "Get Reg too. I want to talk to him, too."

Her eyes grew suspicious, "Deanne's husband? Why?" Amanda asked.

Rick started rising, "We'll talk later. I'm already late. Daryl and Carol are waiting for me at the cabin."

She took his hand and pulled him down. "They can wait a bit further," she countered, "You didn't tell me what you spoke with Jessie last night," she remarked, levelling at him a pointed look.

Rick let out a small sigh. "Nothing we haven't already guessed," he explained. "He's got drinking problems, and possibly abusive, too. Jessie was really afraid when he saw us together talking—" Amanda scoffed dryly when he told her that, he pretended he didn't hear it, "She told me there're people here who are afraid we'll disturb their comforts."

She snorted, "Well, it's not very helpful," she said, "We need to watch over them."

Rick nodded. "I'm going to speak with Michonne. She can watch over him."

Amanda's face still turned down a bit, but this time she didn't comment nor make a sound. "I wish we had a man inside," she said instead, "Deanne isn't a fool, and she knows we aren't, either." She paused, her eyes turning to him again, "You mentioned she told you she'd done things too, sent men to the exile. Did she tell you what happened?"

Rick shook his head. "No. She just said they couldn't manage to get along."

She scowled, staying silent for a while, then said, "I'd feel much better if we know what really happened."

"Yeah…" Rick agreed, nodding again, "me too."

She nodded, and her eyes found his. "They're hiding something from us," she said, "I can almost _feel_ it."

Rick nodded. He felt the same thing, too, but it wasn't important. Sooner or later, he was going to find out, sooner or later these people would start coming back to the real world or they would…die. "It doesn't matter, Amanda," so he told her, nothing mattered but _them_, "I made you a promise last night. One way or another, I'm keeping it."

She gave him a long look, heavy green eyes on his, then with a swift move, she grabbed his collar and yanked him toward herself, and started kissing him.

# # #

Beth had imagined the first time she'd ever shared a bed with someone would've been under different circumstances than waking up with a hangover. She'd never had a hangover before, the first and only time she'd been drunk she got kidnapped and had an accident, so she had no idea how a hangover would feel like…until this morning.

Her head hurt, her mouth was dry with a metallic taste, and she felt like an idiot. Daryl was already awake, like he usually was, watching her sleep, but this time there was a scowl over his brows, and Beth knew he was still pissed at her.

Dammit, it was really the first time she had passed a night in a real bed after a long time, and the very first time she'd shared it with a man, and she'd shared it with the man she loved, and she had gotten herself drunk.

_Way to go, girl,_ she applauded herself inwardly.

"Mornin'" she said, murmuring, turning on her side to look at Daryl.

He grunted out.

Beth would've rolled her eyes at him if only her head didn't ache this much. "Sorry," she mumbled out then.

Nodding, Daryl stood up from the bed and started dressing up. Suddenly it felt…awkward. In the woods or huddled together in the halls, things…sharing personal space was easier. This way, in a room…in _their_ room…four walls and a roof, Beth didn't know, she felt…a bit disturbed, and she also felt Daryl _felt_ it, too as he turned his back on her, revealing the scars across his back but even that must have felt better than facing up with her as he put on his clothes.

Beth once again felt surprised to see regardless how a deep connection they shared with each other, they were still two people who were fairly new to do this. Sometimes it felt like she'd known Daryl for years…had been with him again for years, it was so easy to forget that she wasn't, but again, since the turn, she had also understood how time was really relative, as her teacher in Physic used to tell them. Those few days they'd passed in the woods alone felt like years, and the night they'd passed in the clinic at the city felt like an millennium, but the last night…oh, last night, having fun, dancing…trying to dance with him, making him jealous…being a normal young woman as she was supposed to… how quickly last night had passed.

It made her feel sad, it made her feel irritated too, for what she didn't know. She turned to Daryl, "Where are you going?" she asked.

"I'm gonna meet with Rick at the cabin. Carol's gonna give us the guns," he explained, not still without looking at her.

She nodded, but kept her silence. Last night…last night had really felt good, too good. And she had slept in a real bed, a real bed after a long time, white, clean sheets, comfy pillows. It felt like…home. Not like prison, either, the real home. The first time she had seen the beds when they had come, it had felt so strange, and she had felt the fear so deeply… Maybe…maybe, this was it. They would settle down and get...a life. She knew Rick and Daryl were still suspicious, they still didn't feel…safe, but even that sounded like a comfort zone. She wanted to get out of that comfort zone, they needed to… They had to start from somewhere, even Daryl had cut off his hair… Her father had said every step they took was a risk now, every little decision.

She walked to Daryl. "Daryl…" she called at him, "Maybe…maybe…we should stop… I really felt good last night. Maybe we really should stop and…_try_."

Daryl gave her a look, titling his head upward, "Whaddya mean?"

She stared at him in the eyes then. "Maybe we don't need guns."

His eyes still on hers, he asked her, "Do ya really feel this way?"

She shrugged. "We need to make this place safer…we need to be safer. Rick's right. But maybe we don't need to steal guns for that, but we do it just because it's easier that way."

"Easier?"

"Our comfort zone," Beth told him back.

Daryl shook his head, "I'unno, Beth, I'unno…" he grunted, "I feel…naked without my bow or a gun."

She walked closer and hugged him at his waist. "I know, darlin', I know." She lifted her head up, "Just think about it, 'kay?"

He nodded, kissed the tip of her nose, and left the room. Beth went to take a shower, the feel of normalcy coming at her again… She wondered if it'd make them softer, like Carol and Carl had feared, but Beth didn't know. Maybe, just maybe, they _should_ get a bit softer… Last night felt really good, like they were…human again.

After the shower, she went to the downstairs. Amanda was in the kitchen with Carol and Noah. Aside Rick and the children, and Michonne, they were sharing the house with Carol, Noah and Amanda's wards. Glenn and Maggie and their own group were at the second house with Sasha. Tyreese was still at the infirmary.

Seeing her walking to the kitchen, Amanda smiled at her. "Well, good morning, sunshine," she laughed at Beth as she perched on a stool at the kitchen island, "How's hangover going?"

"Not so bad," Beth said, "I got used to pain."

The words just uttered out on their own. Amanda's squinted eyes found hers, and the older woman gave her a look. Beth felt a redness rising out of her. She jumped down from the stool. "I need to go to the infirmary. See ya later."

Amanda followed her, too. "I'm coming, too. Deanne's waiting." She turned to Noah, "Be careful out there," Amanda told her friend, and instructed, "Do whatever Glenn says, don't listen to that douchebag."

The douchebag must be Aiden, the funny idiot Beth had great time last night. The guy was a douchebag, yes, but he was a funny one. He was also the leader of the supply runs, so Noah and Glenn and Tara must be going out for another run. It was normal, too, going on runs. They were all settling down.

Noah nodded as Beth waited at the door for Amanda, wondering if she was being deliberately followed. She opened the door when Amanda came to her side, they left the house together.

"Hey—" Amanda asked her as soon as they set out to the porch, "Are you okay?"

Beth nodded. "Yeah. I'm good."

Amanda rolled her eyes. "Beth, you're a terrible liar. What's the problem?"

"Nothing," Beth said, walking in the street, "Nothing, there isn't a problem." She faltered at her steps and gave the other woman a look. There really _wasn't_ a problem. "I mean…" she let out a sigh, "I had a great time last night, Amanda," she said, starting walking again, trying to put what she felt into the words, "I got drunk, had fun, danced with Daryl…flirted…it was good, so good…"

Amanda swept her eyes at her. "Yeah," she said, "I saw you. You looked…happy."

Beth nodded. "I _was_. Last night I slept in an real bed after years. Not a bunk in a prison, not a sick bed in a hospital, but an actual bed, with clean sheets and soft pillows. It felt…I don't know…_normal_. At first, I was so wary, so afraid…like each of us… We all were, but maybe…maybe we should stop now…be…human again."

Amanda gave her another look, and let out a sigh. "It's dangerous, Beth," she said, "We're still not safe."

"I _know_," Beth said, exasperated, "But I feel like we have to start at somewhere. Daryl went to meet with Rick and Carol this morning to take a gun. It bothered me. I don't know why but it _did_. I feel like…we should try…" She shook her head, and stopped, getting closer to Deanne's house, "We've been in our comfort zone too long. I know there's no going back from this but I feel like we should find a common ground between and…get a life, a _real_ one."

"Get a life," Amanda murmured then, her eyes wandering around, looking at the town, secured behind the walls. She must have felt it too, Beth knew, she'd seen her Rick. Even Amanda had felt it, had made Rick cookies. She let out a deep breath then, turning back to her. "Beth—" she said, "we…Rick and I…last night… we…uh…tried to get a life, too."

Beth's eyes narrowed at her, "What do you mean?"

Amanda looked at her almost shy, "W-we tried to make a baby."

Her eyes widened, Beth stared at her back.

# # #

"You did _what_?"

Amanda let out another sigh. "Yeah…" she muttered, playing with a pebble at the ground with the tip of her shoe, her head bowed. She guessed everyone was going to be shocked about the news, if she _really_ got pregnant with Rick's baby, _her_ having Rick Grime's baby. Her face soured, but she tried to shoo away the thought. _He_ wanted a baby with her, she reminded herself. Everyone would think whatever they damn pleased. She didn't care. She never did, she never cared what people thought of her, everyone used to think her dirty—even Rick had thought her a dirty cop at first…she'd never cared, too… Still, she'd hated it…deep down, she always hated it.

"Amanda…oh my god…" Beth breathed out, "You and Rick… he said…uh…he's okay with it?"

Amanda's head snapped up at her. "Why? Do you think Rick wouldn't want it with me?"

Beth shook her head. "No… No… I didn't mean that," she said hurriedly, "It's just…after what happened with his wife…and how things were now… I didn't think… Oh my god! Please, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I'm just…"Beth looked at, then smiled, "I'm just… wow!" she breathed out again, "You're gonna a mother?"

She was really going to be, was she? Beth's shock had started getting at her, too… She'd been sure what she wanted when she was with Rick, but without him…without his calming presence—his hand across her stomach, she started feeling panic again. She must have been mad, purely mad, completely lost her senses… "Do you think I'm mad?" she asked Beth.

What if she was a shit mother…Her…being a mother… really, what she'd been thinking? Even Beth seemed like thinking the same… "I know it's wrong, Beth…I know I'm not of mother cloth, too, and having a baby in this world…" She shook her head, "But I just want it…I just want a baby."

A baby with the man she loved… a bond nothing in this world would break, nothing. Despite everything, even she had wondered so many times of her own mother…wanted to see her, wanted to know her… she always had been so angry at her mother, for deserting her, but she _still_ wanted to know her, wanted to understand how she could have forsaken a piece of her.

She started walking again toward the Deanne's house. Beth followed her, too. "When Lori got pregnant, I was the first who learned about it. I asked her why she wanted a baby—a baby in this world, I couldn't understand, too. Lori didn't want her at first, either. She made Glenn looking for pills. She was afraid, too." Turning to her, Amanda looked at her, and stopped at the Deanne's porch, "But I get it now."

"Do you?" Amanda asked.

Beth nodded. "Judith is here, with us, and she's the best thing that happened to us after the turn. Your baby—your baby will be a blessing, Amanda," she told her, "And you'll be a good mother."

Amanda stared at her, her eyes pricking, "Do you really think so?"

"I _know_ so," Beth told her adamantly, "I know what _cloth_ you're made of, Amanda."

Then Amanda realized she had been wrong, even before Rick, she had someone who believed in her. She had Beth, who believed she could be…more. She smiled at her friend, her eyes getting blurry, "Thank you…" she whispered, "Thank you for everything, Beth."

Beth smiled back.

Smiling, Amanda passed her hand over her eyes, rubbing off unshed tears, "Goodness, look at me, already turning into a bundle of hormones…" she let out a laugh, "Rick's so gonna have the mood swings…" she said, breathing out another laugh, sweeping her eyes at Beth again before she climbed the porch and opened the door the Deanne's house. The door always left open in the day, another way of Deanne for showing transparency in the community, and she held the knob before she walked inside, "I guess I'm just going to have tell the truth if our baby asks me one day why…why we brought it into this world…" she muttered, "I fell in love so hard with daddy, I lost all the sense in the world…"

As Beth stared at her back, she stepped in the hall. It felt good, uttering the truth, because as much as she would've liked a baby—having that connection, she could have never dared to do it with anyone but Rick. He…he'd made her realize how much she wanted to have a baby…_his_ baby…

She placed her hand on her stomach, smiling at herself… then she heard the whispers from upstairs… As soon as she heard them, she knew something was off.

She threw herself at door's side at the landing of staircase, where she could stay hidden from upstairs. The muffled talking sounds were coming just from somewhere above her, and the woman voice belonged to Deanne, but she couldn't exactly place the male one. The house seemed like deserted as well, Deanne's two children must be out, Aiden was off for supply run with Glenn and Noah, and she had no idea where the other one was—possibly trying to flirt with one of them.. Amanda had seen the guy… a womanizer, drinking idiot. If she had a boy, she decided, she would never let him turn to one…and really, if her boy would take even a bit from his father, she would not need to fear at all… Her hand went to her stomach again, and she wondered if it was a girl or a boy—and what if it wasn't there…fear gripped her suddenly. What if she _really_ couldn't get pregnant…what if she had something…a disease or simply wasn't capable of… The stuff happened…what if she could never get pregnant…_never_ had a baby…?

She shook her head. She was getting carried away, her fears getting carried away. She shouldn't think like this. "They're…they're dangerous," the male voice bemoaned from above, and Amanda scowled. She'd recognized the weeping, bemoaning voice.

That bastard! That whimpering, weeping, sobbing heap of sorry excuse of holiness! This time she was going to get his hide. "They could do anything—anything—hurt anyone to protect themselves."

Well, yes, the words held a truth, but they were trying to protect themselves here…and Rick—how many times Rick had saved his sorry ass…even though he was an idiot. Deanne thanked the father for his honesty with a placid voice, and sent the man away. Amanda waited at the bottom, hiding, and when the man climbed down, she grabbed him at his neck in a choke, and pulled him into the supply closet next to the staircase.

Inside releasing her grip, she pushed the man at the shelves. Hitting at the shelf in front of him, the man turned aside and gave her a frightened look over his shoulder.

"Hello, father," Amanda said flatly, "Having new friends?"

"I—I—" the fool whimpered, turning around, "I—meant—"

"No harm?" she cut him off, "You're the most ungrateful coward I've ever seen," she seethed out through her teeth. She'd seen people like him all the time, cowards…cowards who thought themselves better than you... but just pitiful… "How many times Rick helped you—saved you?"

"I—"

She cut him off again, "Shut up—" Walking on in him with two quick steps, she held his throat, "You almost got us killed! I almost got _strangled_ because of you, you moron! And now you betrayed us, too!" She shook her head, "What do you think Rick will do to you once he heard about this…What are you going to tell him this time?"

His frightened look turned to a real scare, Amanda watched it with contentment. Good, some people only understood the fear, and she decided that the holy man understood her with a perfect clarity. "He's going to kill you. Rick…Rick _isn't_ a civilized man, you know," she said, shaking her head, dropping her hand off his throat, "He wouldn't send you to exile. No. That's a risk. You'd be just a liability in that way…" She gave him a look, "You're already a liability, aren't you, father? He has no chance but murder you…to protect _us_. And that's what he does, right?" she asked, and went on before the man spoke, "He'd hurt anyone to protect us. You _were_ right about that."

The man started crying. "I—I'm sorry," he whimpered out, "Please… I'll tell her…I'll tell her I was wrong. I'll tell anything… I'll tell her I—"

"You tell her _nothing_!" she spat, hitting him again at the shelf. "You'll keep doing what you've just done. You'll feed her all your stories, you'll get her to trust you, speak to you, then you'll come and sing to me everything. You understand?" she asked, walking back to her, "You will tell me everything, her every little dirty secret. Something happened here. Before we came here, something happened, and I want to know it."

Desperately, he nodded. "I will."

She nodded back, "Good. If you don't, I'll kill you _myself_ before Rick ever gets the chance, father."

Giving the pitiful man a last look, Amanda walked out. Climbing the staircase, she put her hand in her stomach, trying to calm herself, and spoke to her baby inside, _Don't worry, sweetheart, we'll keep you safe…daddy and mommy will keep you safe, no matter what._

# # #

Daryl looked at the gun Carol offered, Beth's words turning in his mind, then turned to Rick. "No…" he shook his head, "I'm good."

Rick narrowed his eyes at him, tucking the gun he'd taken from Carol at the back of his jeans under his shirt. "What do you mean?" he questioned.

"Look, Beth—she's said stuff this morning, I'unno," he said with a shrug, "Do we really need these?" Rick gave him such a look, Daryl quickly continued, "I mean, things go bad, yeah, sure," he said, "And we do what we gotta do, like you said." He paused for a second, and pointed at the guns, "But we don't need these for that."

Rick shook his head. "Right _now_ we don't," he pointed out, and Daryl knew he also had a point there. Right now they wouldn't but in the future…it was a risk, but like Hershel had said before everything was a risk. And Beth…and Beth really wanted them try… Daryl also found himself wanting to try, as dumb as it was…he wanted it.

"We're trying, right?" Daryl asked him back. They were all. Rick had even taken his ring off, he had gone to a party last night, had danced with Beth… "We all are, huh? I cut my hair, you cut your beard. Amanda made cookies for you. We all are tryin', man."

Still giving him, Rick finally nodded. "Okay." Turning back, he started walking, "Let's go," he motioned at him, "Deanne's waiting us. We need to talk about scouting, too."

Daryl scowled. The scouting thing. Find people…good people... He didn't know. "What do you think about that?" he asked to Rick while they were walking back to the town, Carol beside them.

Rick twisted his neck aside, "It's too early for bringing another group in, not before we settled in and secured the place…" Rick said, frowning.

"But…?" Carol asked, sensing the invisible but in the words.

"Amanda says she's a smart woman, but she's still got big ambitions," Rick answered, "She needs to wait. We need to secure the place first." He paused for a second, "Inside and outside."

Daryl nodded, thinking about Sam. He knew Rick was thinking the same. They walked until to the town in silence after that and when they passed through the gates, Carol left them and Daryl and Rick continued toward to Deanne's house.

When they entered into the house, and started for the staircase. Daryl heard Amanda's heated voice coming from the other side of the door as they approached the old woman's office, "Look, I'll speak to you plainly because that's why you wanted me here," Amanda said with frustration, as Rick put a hand on his arm stopping him at the door, "I don't care he was in the Army ROTC before the turn," she went on from other side, "Glenn's better than Aiden."

They heard Deane's calmer voice responded, "If I gave everything your people, Amanda, it's gonna cause problems," the woman said, a frustration entering into her voice, too, "as if…as if I'm favoring you people."

Amanda Shepherd let out a dry laugh any person who had ever clashed with her know, "All in frankness, Deanne, it looks like to me you're _favoring_."

The words were loaded, and neither Rick nor Daryl missed it. The damn prick, the prick who he'd almost knocked out, the prick who had danced with Beth last night was Deanne's older son and it seemed to Daryl Amanda was right. That damn fool had no mind to take anyone's responsibility.

A frown settling over his brows, Rick had entered into the room. Daryl followed.

Deanne was seated behind her desk as Amanda and her husband...whose name Daryl had never even listened to sat in front of it, as Amanda leaned on forward toward her… Upon the intrusion, Amanda turned aside, and looked at them, but her eyes were more on Rick. "Rick!" she breathed out, almost sounding looking for…help.

In response, Rick only looked at Deanne. "She's right. Glenn needs to lead the runs."

Deanne shook her head, as if to close the subject. "I'll consider it." She looked at Rick, "I assume Amanda has talked to you about my intentions to send Mr. Dixon with Aaron and Eric to scouting."

Rick nodded. "She did."

Deanne turned to him. "What do you say, Mr. Dixon?" the old woman asked him.

Daryl shrugged, "Why me?"

"Aaron thinks you know the difference between the bad and the good people, and Amanda agrees. It's an expertise we could use."

"No," Rick cut in, his voice adamant, "The new recruits has to wait. We've just come, settling in, and you're already worried about _your_ people and my people getting along. If Daryl brings another group, it'll only make things worse."

This time Deanne nodded. "What about the Wolves?" Amanda asked, turning to Rick again, "Are we really just let them go around there?"

Rick shook his head again. "We need to secure the walls, the watches first, our _inside_," he spoke, but his words were more to Deanne, as his eyes were fixed at the older woman. "Yesterday a ten years old escaped from your guards. A _ten_ years old," Rick seethed out the word.

"Who?" Deanne asked, her expression turning to grim.

"The doctor's boy," Amanda answered.

Daryl continued, "I found him at the woods… He was afraid to turn to the town. He broke some shit in the garden. He was afraid…"

Rick looked at the leader of the town harder, "The boy said his father always gets mad," he remarked, "Deanne, is there something you want to tell us?" he asked pointedly.

The woman shook her head. "Pete—Pete sometimes takes it hard, but he's a good guy."

Rick scowled, "He drinks."

Deanne nodded. "Sometimes," she accepted, "He'll behave…" she paused for a second, "He's our only surgeon."

Amanda's face got darkened as Daryl scowled too. He didn't like the sound of those words, and he remembered the special solar units in his gardens and the tomatoes… His scowl grew heavier as Rick's turned to a stone.

"We need to start up watches all _along_ the wall," Rick then said, his voice as stiff as his face, but moving on, "Not just at the gate. Michonne will see it. Amanda has a mind of forming up a Militia to deal the outside threats and we should talk to about it. Aiden perhaps could help him there with it." Rick gave the woman almost a smirk, "He wanted to be in the army, right?"

In silence Deane looked back at him. "This place has to be safe," Rick then told her, "And right now it isn't." There was no softness in his voice, it was as hard as the truth itself. These people were idiots and Rick had just told them that.

"I'm not letting it go like this," Rick continued, and Daryl recognized the tone too. Deanne had better played along, let him handle things, or the older woman was going to get Rick's bite, too. "We need to forfeit the walls—" He turned to Deanne's husband, who had watched the talk in silence until now, "I want outer walls," he then stated.

All the eyes turned to him then. "Outer walls?" the man asked back.

Rick nodded. "Yeah, we need to define a perimeter…" Rick explained, "This—" his hand pointed at the window, "This could be our inner wall. We build up another outside of it, dig a moat too, filling it with spikes—"

"A dry moat…" Deanne's husband muttered, "Like…like a castle?"

Rick nodded. "Yeah," he said, "Like a castle. We grow corps there. We did it in the prison between the fences. The supplies ain't infinite. We need to start growing crops, and we need to secure them. I know a bit of farming. Maggie knows it, too. We'll show you." He nodded at them, leaning on, "People used to do it for thousands of years."

The older man nodded eagerly. "I don't know how to build castles, but I can…learn," the man said with a smile, and paused a little, "We can even set up battlements too, so you could walk on the watches atop."

Liking the idea, Rick nodded with an expression at his face close to content, "Yeah," Rick said, "It'd be great, Reg."

"Is there any quarry or something like that we can find stones?" Amanda asked then, "If we're to put up walls, we should do it properly," she said sternly, "Those metal plates are good, but stones are better. They can hardly be lit with fire and bullets cannot penetrate. Even tanks wouldn't break in." She turned and looked at the architect, "Can we find stones?"

The man considered it for a second, "There's a quarry not so far from here. The road is ridden with walkers, so we don't go to there much. But I guess we could find them there..."

With the same contentment, Rick nodded, "I'll look at it."

# # #

"You know I wanted to live in a _castle _when I was child_…_" Amanda said, laughing as they rested along the railings at the porch back at the house, looking at outside the streets.

It was getting dark, the sun almost setting down created a halo around her, and she really looked beautiful, so beautiful Rick wanted to kiss her again, but laughed at what she had said. "Amanda Shepherd, I never took you as a woman who wanted to be a princess," he told her, throwing his arm around her shoulder.

She laughed back, letting out a sigh, "Delusions of youth…" she said, but her voice was full of mirth, not depressed, and Rick liked it, "But don't worry, it passed quickly."

Rick laughed at that, too. "Hmm mm…"

She bumped at his shoulder with hers, "Hey…" she called back, "And what about you…? _I know a bit of farming_…" she quoted, laughed, "Don't tell me you were one of those people who wanted to grow shit in the retirement."

Letting a sigh out, Rick shook his head. "No. Not in the retirement," he said, remembering the times after Lori's death, and somehow he started speaking, "After Lori's death it was hard for Carl. H—he had to put down Lori. I-I wasn't there. The prison was attacked again. Carl…Carl grew—reckless. I—uh—had episodes as well. It was hard."

Looking at him, she nodded. "I know. It's okay. You-you don't need to if it's still…"

He cut her off. It wasn't hard…not anymore. "No, it's okay," he told her, stepping back and rested himself at the angle of the porch's roof, "I wanted to show Carl another life was still possible. Took off my gun, and started…farming. It was…nice."

"What happened then?" she asked, resting herself just beside his knees at the railings, twisted to him.

Rick shrugged, "Life, life happened. The walkers broke inside, had to kill them…Used the pigs we grew up as bait to pull the walkers away." He bowed his head, shaking it, remembering how he sacrificed the poor things he'd grown his hands to protect his family... "I wasn't like this before, you know…" He let out a bitter laugh, "I was…the officer friendly." He gave her a look with a smile, "You would've hated me."

She poked at his foot with the tip of hers, "No… I always liked the nice guys… hated the scary ones."

"I'm the scary one, Amanda," he told her pointedly, "I ripped off a man's throat with my teeth."

He'd done what he had to do, but it didn't change things. He—he had that thing inside…the thing that had made him kill his best friend at the end, and Shane hadn't made it, but Rick was still living…kicking and screaming, and ripping off. To keep his family safe, he would do anything. He'd already accepted it.

But Amanda shook her head. "No… I know the scary ones," she said, "You aren't one." He gave her a look. She let out a sigh, and looked at him back. "When I first came here," she told him with a quite voice, "I was afraid if I was going to have another Gorman situation at my hands… Everyone listens to you when you speak, and you have a power…a power to make people listen to you…Gorman was like that first, too. When he spoke, we listened, but he never wanted to take responsibility of us—I can't blame him, I guess, I've never wanted to take anyone's responsibility, too. It…it scares me…" She shook her head, as if to put her thoughts on the track, "My point is…the power he had corrupted Gorman, at some point he even stopped trying. But you, Rick—" She moved on in him and took his hand, "I see you everyday struggling… trying…not to be _that_ man. Whatever you do...you don't do it for yourself. You do it for us, to keep us safe. And that's," she said, pointing her finger at him with a smile, "in my book is still the officer friendly, honey," she pursed her lips down then, laughing, "You know…_suckers_."

Rick smiled at her back, fastening his fingers around hers, "Amanda…" he called out at her.

"Hmm…?" she asked back.

"Mary me."

She snapped her head up at him, her eyes looking at his deeply, "You're really not doing this in half way, aren't you, Rick?"

He shook his head in answer. She was going to be the mother of his child, what else she had expected?

She nodded, and coming closer, she rested her head at his chest, "I want a ring," she told him then, "But not a big stupid stone," she continued, "Nope… I want…" she paused, as if she was pondering, "just a band ring would suffice…but of white gold. I hate golden…or rose…I wouldn't mind…rose…it's pretty…or a band of diamond…" She lifted her head up at him, "I don't mind diamonds, you know, not exactly…but it's a damn cliché…I mean…_suckers_…And…"

"Amanda…" Rick whispered, leaning in on her closer, "Shut up."

Looking at his eyes, she nodded again, "Okay."

He kissed her. At first, it was light, and she was smiling against his lips, then a second later, it grew hotter, he grabbed her at the waist and hoisted up along him, and deepened the kiss. They—they should go inside and work on…making babies again…just to be sure… Tearing his lips off hers, "Let's go inside," he breathed out in her ear.

"Genius…." she whispered out at him, her hand still moving through his hair, but before they took a step back and turned to go inside, they heard voices outside… screams.

Their heads snapped at it.

It was coming from the infirmary.

They looked at each other for a split of second before they turned and started running.

# # #

They brought Tara back to the infirmary unconscious between the arms of Eugene and that gun she couldn't even remember his name properly…Nicholas…or something. Beth didn't know, didn't care.

The only thing she cared now was her own people. "Where are the others?" she asked, looking at Eugene. "Where is Noah…?" she asked, her eyes wandering, and then she noticed, "Where is Glenn?" she asked, her heart beating in her throat, scared…scared of the answer she was going to hear. Yet she already knew.

Eugene shook his head. "I'm sorry…" and started crying, "I'm so sorry."

At that moment, Maggie stormed in too, and with one look she understood. Then she started screaming.

It _always_ ended with screams.

* * *

_A/N: At first, I was going to only kill Noah, then I thought, what the hell... I've always though Noah's death didn't really add anything as drama wise, as we only saw him, like what...three or four episodes... and they played with Glenn's death so many times... so why not? I also want to keep things different than in the show, too, s much as I can, so this wouldn't get boring as you know what happens the next?_

_Writing this chapter with Amanda and Rick was a great fun, especially when a baby has come into the picture. At this point, I'm afraid they're getting, and will continue to do so, too, my attention more than Daryl and Beth, but I guess, it's just happened that way. Both Rick and Amanda have so many grounds to cover, they make my fingers itch to write._


	32. Chapter 32

XXXII.

The thought found her before she had even realized what she was doing. Together with Rick, Amanda stood at the threshold of the infirmary, looking at the desperately weeping with screams woman in Beth's arms in a deep, heartfelt anguish for the death of her husband, and she couldn't help herself but think…_this could have been me… _It was shameful, cruel, even heartless, but she couldn't help it… She just couldn't as if what Rick had asked—her, what they had just decided hit her at full weight, knocking the breath out of her. She was going to _marry_, she was going to marry Rick Grimes, and there was a big probability that this crazy woman with grief would be her one day.

The fear…a dread she had never felt this deeply before grabbed her and she clutched Rick's hands, as if to make sure herself he was still there, and Amanda didn't know what to do—what she was supposed to do, her insides coiling with the frightening aspect of what she had realized, her heart seizing with shame and cruelty of her own thought, but it was just there. And it _wasn't_ going anywhere.

She'd never thought of that before. Yes, she'd feared so much he would leave her one day, but not like that, never like that. She'd never feared losing him _that_ way. Rick was always there, like a stone pillar that held their world upon, you could always count on him doing that. That was the man he was, the cloth he was made of, and Amanda loved him for that, she was a sucker that way, but as she looked at Maggie as the woman cried her heart out over her husband's death, Amanda thought the worst, the absolutely worst…the most terrifying _what if_ all of her life.

What if she _really_ lost him? What if Rick one day didn't come back? What she would've done then? What she would've done now without him? The thought almost brought her on knees, crying as much as the other woman—and she was being selfish again—insensitive and selfish, _still_ thinking herself even now, through other's miseries, but she just couldn't stop it… She just… she just couldn't live without him…not after what he'd given to her—not after he'd made her realize how much she wanted it…

Her baby! Her hand went to her belly on instinct, leaving off Rick's, her shoulders sagging, another dread gripping her… What, what she _really_ would have done if she lost Rick and stayed alone with her baby—with his baby…their baby… She couldn't do this alone… She wanted a baby, but _his_ baby. She couldn't do this without him. She just _couldn't_. She needed him... Beth had believed in her, believed that she could be more, but without Rick, Amanda would've never tried—would've never wanted to…would've never dared to…

Swallowing hard, she tried to get a grip on herself, on her fears, and turned her eyes at Rick. Her fears always made her lose her shit. Rick didn't need to deal with them. Later…later, she would try, maybe her feelings…they were just too new…too heavy, she needed to time work through them. She had never felt anything like this before…never felt this out of her depths. Rick would know what to do…he always did. He would calm her down. He would take her in his arms, make love to her until he made sure she knew…felt he was there, not going anywhere—never _leaving_ her… never… and she just wanted him to do it… wanted him to take her back to the house and fuck her—drilled it into her like he'd done before—his eyes staring at hers, making her _feel_ it… feel it in her every pore, in her every cell.

She turned her eyes at him—and saw his expression…

Good lord! _She_ was the most, the _most_ selfish bitch she'd ever known! Even now she thought of herself in her usual ways, not caring… not even thinking how _he_ would feel… There was an acute pain over his features, etched on his skin, not as screaming as Maggie's but still as deep as hers as he stared at Maggie, who still cried in her sister's arms, his body cast off stone, stiff… but there was still a contained anger underneath of the stiffness…radiating out of him…

She knew the reason, too. Glenn… They would never let that idiot lead the run, but what they could've done? Start a power struggle from the first week? Or take it from Deanne? Deanne said—she'd said she would consider it. Rick would've done it at the end, but he didn't want to be that man…and Amanda loved him even more for that, admired him… admired his strong will and resolution, still trying to be a good man… what he'd told her how he'd tried before to show his son another life was possible just a few minutes ago had made her chest so tightened, made her feel so…full of love, she couldn't bring herself say no to him when he had told her to marry him, because—she wanted to—god, she wanted to be his wife… it was crazy, _her_ being anyone's wife, it was crazy but perhaps she was just going crazy. He _always_ made her crazy…with love.

Still, this wouldn't have happened if the older woman had listened to them. And Rick's expression said it all, too. He also knew that.

Amanda didn't know how he must be feeling right now, but she knew how deeply Rick cared for his family. Glenn was one of the people who had been with them since the beginning, and she knew Rick trusted the younger man. Rick… he wasn't going to take this well, she then realized, not even a _bit_.

A sudden panic started building up inside her, pushing back her confused emotions, and looking at him as he silently, but deeply felt the loss of his friend, another death of his family, she felt the familiar helplessness from her childhood again. She knew she had to _do_ something, be there for him, offer some sort of comfort, she was going to be his damn wife, and a wife… a wife _must_ do something for her husband in times like these, but the only thing she could manage was just standing there—gaping at him in silence, unable to speak a word. She'd never really believed herself having the wife material, and her reasons had never been more obvious to her than right now as she looked at him helplessly, feeling at lost.

"How did it happen?" Rick asked with a low voice at Eugene who was sitting at Tara's unconscious body at the bed closest to them, "Did you see it?"

Eugene shook his head as the other guy—Nicholas said from the bed across it as the doctor checked a wound over his head, "We—Me, Glenn and Noah got trapped inside the warehouse. I—"

"Noah—?" she whispered out, realizing he wasn't in the infirmary either, much like Aiden.

Eugene ran his eyes away, as Nicholas nodded, "I'm sorry."

If it was possible, Amanda felt even more terrible. Another person she'd failed to protect. Noah had always behaved he was more of Rick's people than hers, but Amanda had never cared. He—he'd wanted to stay in the hospital and that made him her own people, and he had died now—like almost everyone else she was supposed to look after for.

"Aiden?" Rick asked then.

Nicholas shook his head, and started recounting what had happened, how Aiden's blind shooting got Tara almost blow up to smithereens, got _himself_ killed, and how they got stuck in the revolving doors, and how Glenn tried to save himself, but couldn't make it…taking off Noah, as well…

"Glenn—" Rick said then, "Glenn tried to get you out so he could run off?" Rick asked, suspicion and disbelief clear in his voice, his eyes boring holes into the other man's skull.

Nicholas gave Rick a look, shaking his head, "It was… it was a nightmare there after the bomb went off…" Nicholas said with a shutter, running his eyes away. "We all panicked."

Rick gave at him a stare, and Amanda shared his suspicion as well. It didn't sound like the man she'd seen on the road. Maggie's husband looked like one of those people, believers… who would try to save others, but then again he was also a man who he loved his wife as deeply as Rick loved his family so maybe… she didn't know what to think. Sometimes you found yourself being capable of doing things you could never imagine, they all knew it, and no one's hands were clean now. It wasn't like that if something _else_ happened, the man would have told it to _Rick_, either.

Rick must have thought of the same, too, because he turned and looked at Eugene. "You saw what happened?"

The man with funny hair shook his head. "I'd gone to pick up the truck. I just saw Nicholas running away from the walkers."

"But did you see them…_dead_?" Rick asked, walking at him, and Amanda realized what he exactly was trying to ask. Rick wasn't going to take the man's words for that.

"It's my good estimation that no one would get out of there alive," the fake scientist remarked in a more agitated manner than his usual banal tones, cornering into the wall as Rick approached him, "When I came back, I save them both." He shook his head at Tara and Nicholas. "There was no one else."

Rick gave him another look, "Are you sure—" he asked again, stressing the words out, "are you completely _sure_?"

Eugene nodded as Maggie's cries grew even worse, Beth was crying too, holding on her tighter. Maggie then pushed herself out of her arms… "You're lying!" she screamed at Nicholas, "Glenn would've never done something like that!" she spat, "_Never_!"

Rick walked to her and held her at her upper arms before she attacked at Nicholas. She lifted her head up at him. "Rick…" the grief stricken woman said through cries, "We survived through worse odds, he still could be alive."

Hope…Amanda saw at her face, denial and hope…the first stage of grief… Rick looked at her back, but then Amanda saw the same thing over his face as well.

_No! _She almost shouted out the word, understanding where this _really_ was going—that Rick really wasn't going to take their words. _No one_ had seen Glenn dead, not like Aiden. Her fear and panic boomed up like a volcano inside her, and for a second—for a second, Amanda once again couldn't decide if she kicked his ass being this stupid, or kissed him fiercely for being this…good.

This time, though, unlike the other times, fear won over. She couldn't lose him—she _just_ couldn't… She just got him. Maybe… maybe she was carrying his baby inside her tummy… "Rick…" she breathed out.

He didn't turn to her, but instead looked at Daryl. "Get Abraham and Rosita," he ordered to their resident tracker, "We're leaving."

Daryl nodded as he shared a brief look with Beth then turned around. She was about to open her mouth again, but Maggie beat her to it, "I'm coming too."

Rick shook his head. "No. You stay."

Maggie shook her head back, "I'm coming. He's my husband. I'm not leaving him."

Rick walked in on her and held her at her shoulders again. "Maggie, we're _not_ leaving him," he said, "We'll go and find him. But you have to be here. I need you here."

Amanda knew what the words meant. Maggie was a liability now, too emotional, and she would jeopardize them in the field, something Rick would never allow. He would never let anything jeopardize their safety, she knew it from the first time she took a step in the camp at the church, and got threatened. Maggie looked torn too, sensing it. But then again, it was _her_ husband who was out there. Once again Amanda put herself in her position and her chest tightened again… She shook her head. She didn't need to put herself in her position.

Her soon to be husband was going to be out too! Perhaps on a suicide mission. Eugene had said… they didn't see it…but really how much chance anyone would have? She knew that was the man she'd fallen in love but she—she was just afraid… Rick walked to her, releasing Maggie. "Amanda—"

She took his arm and pulled him out of the infirmary. "Rick…" she said, "They're probably didn't make it…" she told him as soft as she could be…"I—I want to save Noah, too, I really do—but—"

He cut her off, "When the prison fell, Amanda," he told her back, "I saw Judith's stroller covered with blood. I assumed her dead. I didn't want to hope. But Tyreese had found her. Carol had saved them." He shook his head, "I'm not doing it again, Amanda." He paused, "They don't know it for sure. _I_ have to know for sure. Glenn—he saved me, back at the ending he saved me at the city. He helped me when he had no reasons. He brought me back to my family. He's my family."

And Rick would never abandon his family. She nodded. "Then I'll come too," she said. If he was going, so Amanda decided, she was going too. She still wasn't Maggie.

But Rick shook his head at her too. "Amanda—"

"No!" she cut in, "You go, I go."

"No," Rick told her flatly, "I can't have you out—not _now_…not when you might be…" His eyes lifted at her eyes, and his fingers brushed at her stomach, and Amanda understood. "You _have to_ stay."

Her hands went to her stomach, but she shook her head. "Rick... it's only been a day… I can't get pregnant over a day."

"You still stay."

Amanda couldn't decide if he sounded like he was an overprotective prick, but she had always hated taking unnecessary risks. But this wasn't an unnecessary risk. What if something happened to him out there, something she could have hindered if she had been there...? She couldn't lose him…she just couldn't. She looked at him for a second, trying to decide, then she saw Deanne Monroe walking toward the infirmary.

Her husband was behind her too, as his other son; the first crying, the latter with a blazing fury as Deanne looked at them with red eyes, face with the color of ash, ashen but without tears. There was a cold starkness over her blank face, though… A mother who had lost her son…her firstborn…

Her hands on her stomach tightened, the fear gripping her again, Rick was right. They couldn't risk it… She didn't want to risk her baby…even if it wasn't there yet… All in frankness she had no idea how the conception truly worked in the pregnancy, though she knew it could happen through a period of time, but the actual pregnancy—the implantation didn't s start immediately. She might have an egg fertilized but she knew she wasn't still technically pregnant, but then again, there was this woman in the department who took a few weeks off when she tried to get pregnant, because her doctor told her to lay down to get her fertilized egg attached into her… so maybe…maybe she really stayed put and let her baby attached on her uterus.

"Aiden?" Deanne asked, as a woman who was readying herself for the first, "Is it true?"

In silence, Rick nodded. Her son rushed to Rick, "_What_ happened?" he bellowed out, "WHAT happened to my brother?"

Rick pushed the aggressive man and nodded at the infirmary inside. "Go ask them. They left behind Noah and Glenn. I'm going to look for them," he told them, climbing down the stairs.

Amanda gave a look at Deanne. She couldn't even comprehend how it must be for the woman now…losing a child… her hand went her stomach again... wondering if her baby had really attached itself on her… "I'm sorry," she told the older woman then, "I'm really sorry, Deanne."

# # #

Amanda found them as Beth sat on the infirmary's porch with Maggie later in the night, all left behind, in waiting—waiting for the men they loved to turn back. Amanda sat on the first steps, and shook her head, "I'm fucking hating it."

Beth agreed. Waiting was the worst, knowing your loved ones went to the danger, not knowing if they would come back. Beth had grown accustomed to the feeling in her time in the prison. She'd thought that was her job then, and it was—she'd gracefully accepted when they hadn't taken her when they'd gone to Woodbury to look for again Glenn and Maggie but Beth was no longer the same girl. She'd gone far from that girl now… She didn't know what she was exactly, but waiting didn't suit her now. That much she already knew, had already realized with her episodes with Daryl.

She'd thought she'd done with waiting, but here again… she was waiting—and this time it was even worse because she knew she could help—she could be there and help but Rick was in his episodes too, and Daryl was always overprotective of her, and well, Maggie…she needed her.

Beth wasn't sure of what to make of that, either. Maggie gave out a bitter snicker at Amanda's typical exclamation, but didn't speak. She was still in pain, but she'd stopped crying. When Rick had decided to go look for Glenn, she had at least stopped crying. Beth didn't what to feel, it'd happened so—sudden, she wasn't ready to deal with Maggie, but she couldn't just turn away and ignore her… she was still her sister. She'd told her she'd forgiven her, but since that day they'd talked, they weren't in a much of dialogue…and it didn't disturb her. It felt like they were sort of former best friends that had been close before but grew apart… and they did, they just grew apart, and Beth didn't mind it. She just didn't.

She had her own family now, much like Maggie, her own friends… Even their houses were separate now, and it wasn't a conscious thought, it _just_ happened that way. But when she'd seen Maggie falling at the ground in the infirmary, seeing Glenn wasn't there, she'd been the first one to rush at her side.

She'd held her bigger sister in her arms, cried with her…had told her it was going to be okay. Her heart broke in two seeing her like this, a devious thought in her mind, a fear asking how it could have been if she lost Daryl too… and how it must hurt Maggie now… she loved Glenn so fiercely, Beth sometimes used to even get jealous of that, thinking if she would have someone she could love that much, that fiercely—but she had been so afraid then—couldn't even bring herself cry after Zach—then Daryl came, and Beth understood.

"He's going to be okay," Beth told her sister, holding her hand, her voice decisive, her hand tight, "He'll come back."

Maggie looked at her back with hope and tears, "Do you really believe it?" she asked in a low whisper.

Beth nodded, "I do," she said, as Amanda twisting her head looked up at him, "We're all going to be okay," Beth told them, her voice getting higher, "We all are. Glenn will come back. You'll be happy again. Daryl and I will be happy. Rick and Amanda will have a baby. We all will be good."

Maggie's eyes turned to Amanda, as Beth bowed her head, slipping off Amanda and Rick's little secret… "Are you…?" Maggie asked.

Wordlessly, Amanda nodded, then she sighed out, "Rick and I—uh—we decided to marry tonight…" she then stated, "Before…this…" she waved her hand in the air, "we were just talking about…rings."

Once again, Beth stared at her in shock.

Amanda let out another deep sigh, Maggie played with her own ring. Beth rested her back at the railings. "I'm fucking hating this," she murmured.

They sat down at the porch's steps in silence then, waiting, taking support from each other's silent company, simply be there for each other… until they heard sounds from the side of the gates—

They sprung on their feet and started running.

And there they stood, Rick and Daryl, just ahead of Abraham and Rosita—hands bloodied but holding a Glenn, all covered with blood and guts but still…alive.

Maggie fell on her knees, already crying again, and Beth followed, throwing her arms around her—and started crying too.

# # #

"It's bullshit!" Rick yelled at Deanne after she'd done with interviews, registering all depositions at the camera, after they had come back, listening to both sides of the story.

Rick didn't fucking _have_ _to_ listen. He'd already known, never believed a word of that bastard, even before they'd found Glenn at the warehouse, covered with walker's blood and guts, _alone_. Noah hadn't made it. But Glenn had made it. If he choose to between them…no… he'd gone to find Glenn. Glenn was the family, Noah just was with them, and it was just that way. He would've protected the boy, if nothing but for Amanda and Beth, but Noah wasn't like Glenn.

Though, still, if he couldn't have protected him, he would just avenge him. "I'm going to—" he started but Amanda cut in, looking at him pointedly.

"Rick!" she called out at him, "It's been a long night. And we all…suffered," she said, softening her tone a bit, "We should talk it tomorrow."

Rick turned and gave Deanne a look, as the woman turned it with a hard one, as cold as her face, and Rick felt the anger dwindling a bit, remembering across them sat a woman who had lost her son tonight. A _son_ whose stupidity almost got Glenn killed, got Noah faced with a terrible end...

It _was_ a long night, all too long… His thought turned to Amanda, how she was going to feel when they were alone. She was going to take Noah's death well. He could still remember her after Whitney. She looked composed now, but Rick knew it was a front. He'd gotten all familiar with her acts. She hated when people died on her as much as he did. "It's bullshit!" he repeated, with a less of killing intent, "He left _them_ to save his own skin," he hissed, "and now he's making up stories."

Deanne shook her head. "Glenn said he was trying to break the glass to save them—"

"Glenn _said_ he pushed them out to save himself…"

"And Nicholas _said_ he didn't—Glenn tried to do it…"

"Do you believe _this_?" Rick asked.

"Do you?" Deanne asked back.

"_No_." Rick said adamantly, "It's not Glenn."

"Do you have any proof backing up that belief, Rick?"

His eyes found hers, "I don't need proof," he said coldly, "I already knew."

Deanne levelled a look back at him. "I _see_," she said flatly, "So we're supposed to take your words for it because you knew."

Anger found him even worse. "I already _knew_ he was going to get people killed!" he seethed out, "I told you too, Deanne."

Deanne's face turned even colder understanding about whom he was talking. "I _think_ you should leave now, Rick."

Oh, but he was just getting started. He'd told her… just like he'd _known_, her son's stupidity got himself and others killed. Just like predicted, either they were going to turn to the real world or they were going to die… Damn him, if he let them taking his people together along themselves! _Shooting_ at a walker like that…like…like it was a fun! Tara was still lying in the infirmary!

He opened his mouth again, but Amanda held his arm. "Rick—" Her voice was small, she was trying to keep herself upright, but her reserves were shaking… then she said, "_Please_. It's not the time."

Rick felt his own reserves shattering at her sight, too. She'd been so scared at the infirmary; he felt it when she grabbed his hand out of sudden. This…this was just another reminder of how safe they were _not_.

This was supposed to be their night! He'd asked her to _marry_ him. He'd asked another woman to marry him. They should've been in the bed now, making love or playing with Judith…not this—_not_ this fucking shit… not just after they'd decided to have a child, not just after what he'd promised her last night. This wasn't the real life, this wasn't _even_ a life. He needed to keep them safe, all of them, but yet again he was failing… and this time it was so close… but what would happen the next time?

Anger was building up in him again, so he turned on his heels and left the room before he exploded. Amanda followed her out quickly.

When they returned to the house, he went to look for Judith. She was with Carl. Amanda took her from Carl and looked at Rick. She started going to their room. Carl gave him a look. "Are you okay, dad?" his son asked.

Holding his shoulder, Rick nodded. "Yeah. I'm now," he breathed out, watching Amanda walking with Judith, then turned his eyes at Carl, "Go to sleep. It's been a long night."

In silence, Carl nodded.

Rick followed Amanda to the room and saw her as she placed Judith into her cot at the other side of their bed as Rick sat at the edge of the bed.

Amanda walked to him then and sat beside him. "I'm fucking hating this," Rick muttered out, looking at his hands, blood covered. He knew he _should_ take a shower, get clean again, but he wondered why he would try…why they would ever try… at the end their hands would get bloodied again.

It just never ended… "I'm sorry, Amanda…" he told her then, bowing his head, "I'm really sorry."

She shook her head, and held his hand. "It wasn't your fault," she told him back and leaned down to find his eyes, "Not everything is your fault, Rick."

"I—I was so afraid…I lost Glenn… If he died tonight…" he faltered. If Glenn died tonight because of their…stupidity, Rick just didn't know what he would have done. He still didn't know he would do—what he was supposed to do, but if he lost Glenn, too… He had already lost too much.

"I know—" Amanda said, straightening back, releasing his hand.

"About Noah… I'm so—" he started, but she cut him off, too.

"Wasn't your fault, either…" she said, "I wish…I wish…we could save them… we could save them all, but I know it's not possible." She paused, "I'm just…glad _you're_ all back. I know…I know it's not right, and I feel like I failed Noah too, but you came back, Daryl came back, _Glenn_ came back—it could've been worse." She paused again, "When I saw Maggie…I got so afraid."

"I'm sorry—" he told her again, "This was…this was supposed to be our night. I—I just asked you to marry me—and we're talking about this."

She let out a bitter laugh. "I _know_." She sighed out, "I know..." They fell in silence then, before she said with a voice clearer, "She's got a point, Rick," she told him, and Rick what she was referring to, "You know, but you don't have proof."

"I don't need proof," he repeated, shaking his head. He didn't need something he already knew. "He left Glenn and Noah to die so he could save himself."

"We all did terrible things, Rick," Amanda said then, "I talked to women to whore themselves out to keep men happy, closed my eyes and turned my head to the other side when they didn't want to… I plotted murders, killed… never lost any sleep over it, either." She paused, "I know they were bad…I know they deserved it. But…" She let out another sigh, "None of us hands are clean now."

Understanding her point, he nodded. "No." His hands were even dirtier. He'd done even worse. He'd killed, threatened, tortured—did what he had to do to protect his family. "It's the way of the things are now." He shook his head again, "But I _tried_, I really did, Amanda…"

She held his hand again. "I _know_." Her eyes found his again, "Nicholas was a whimpering coward, but he wanted to save himself… Can you… can you really fault him for that?" she asked.

There was no hesitation in his answer, "If saving himself gets my people dead, _yes_," he said, "There's a reason why the third question is _why_, Amanda."

But Amanda shook her head. "If it was you," she told him, her eyes still on his, "If it was you there trapped, you know you would've done the same…" Her eyes skipped at Judith, and Rick followed them too, "If it was you, Rick, you would've sacrificed Nicholas to save yourself. For us."

Again, there was no hesitation in his answer, "Yes."

He'd already told it to Deanne. Saving himself, staying alive was the only way to protect them. He used to wonder if that was him or Shane…but Rick had realized a long ago it made no difference now. A long while ago he'd turned to the man who had killed to keep her family safe.

Her face stiff, Amanda nodded, too. "Yes, and that's the man you're. The man we need," she said, "When I see Maggie tonight…" she went on, letting a breath out, "the first thing I thought was…that woman could have been _me_… I know it's horrible, I know I'm the most selfish bitch in this shithole but as she cried her heart out, all I could think of what if I lost you too one day… I hated it, Rick. I so fucking hated it."

"That's why they needed to listen to me when I told them Glenn had to lead…" he told her back, "So I wouldn't have sat down here at the _night_ I asked a woman to marry me—the woman who is going to carry my child, wondering how many of them will I need to kill _before_ they stop killing themselves."

She let out another deep sigh, pulling her hand, looking around…then whispered again… "I know…"

For the rest of the night, they stopped talking.

# # #

They didn't talk in the morning as well.

The day started slow, as if everyone was wary what would happen now. After taking their deposition, Deanne had sent both Glenn and Nicholas at their houses, ordering them to stay in put until she decided what to do. Amanda knew everyone was also expecting Rick's move, too, for that Amanda couldn't be sure anymore.

She wasn't even sure if he'd ever slept last night. Later in the night, he'd come for her, pulling her underneath him, and never letting her go. It was so intimidate again, like their last time, this time his eyes kept staring at her as he drilled in her, as if making sure he was there, securely holding her under him… like she had wanted…needed… and he'd realized it, he'd realized what she needed even though they hadn't talked about it. But again, he _always_ did it. He knew what she needed even before she did…

After they were done, feeling so much spent, not only at body, but also in mind, Amanda couldn't bring herself to speak up again…so she slowly lulled into sleep as Rick stared at the ceiling. When she woke up the next morning, he was still in the same position, still staring above. He'd told her then he was going out the woods and would come back later to talk with Deanne. Amanda knew he wanted to clear his head off, and the town wasn't the place, so she'd nodded in silence as he hid his gun under his shirt, gave her a quick peck on the lips, gave Judith a quick kiss on her forehead and left.

Amanda felt….she didn't know how it felt… so she sat in the bed, holding the baby at her bosom, watching his back… Her head tilted down, she stared at the baby. It was bizarre… just over a month ago, she'd been plotting murders, mutinies, fearing for her own life… now she was sitting in the bed, a baby in her arms, getting married—trying to have her own baby…

She dropped by the infirmary, checking out Tara—and to see Beth, too. Beth looked like at lost too, herself, as she was still dealing with Maggie, so she bailed out from there, deciding she could talk to the younger woman later.

She decided to see Deanne. Perhaps it'd been better if she talked with the other woman first, might find a common ground between, she always did…find common grounds. She still felt…they needed Deanne. She couldn't explain it, it was a gut feeling, and Amanda always trusted her guts feelings.

But the other woman wasn't at the house. "She's out…" her husband said, "she went to see the priest. We're… this is not a good time now. Just give her time to mourn," the old man…almost implored, and Amanda just nodded back.

"You want me to wait?" Rick asked later in the night as they retired to their own room to put down Judith after she had slept in the hall.

Amanda placed Judith into her cot, somehow the gesture had started coming to her natural…and swept her hand through her soft, blond baby hair. She'd been with the baby all day, not only because she didn't have anything else to do, but it felt to her she had to… If she was going to be Rick's wife… then it meant Judith was her responsibility now, too. So she'd taken the baby from Carol. "I know you're still thinking, Rick," she said, twisting over the cot to look at him.

He didn't say anything. "Just wait," she told him then, "Just wait, okay?"

Rick shook his head. "This…none of this would've happened if she listened to us, Amanda," he repeated.

"_Yes_," she said back, straightening from the cot. She'd been thinking too, today…trying to find her common ground…"She said she'd _consider_ it. That part…that part with…favoring…she got a point there, too, Rick."

Rick stayed in silence, as if mulling what she had said in his mind, because he knew she got a point, too. They—he was asking too much of change on such a short period of time. It didn't work that way, adaptation always took time. "Rome wasn't built in a day, Rick," she reminded him.

Rick gave her a look. "I thought you were wary of leaders with big ambitions, Amanda," he told her back.

Amanda heaved out deeply. "I _am_. But it doesn't mean I don't recognize the fact that we'd have still been in our caves without them." She gave him a long back too, "You promised me, Rick. A real life."

"Nicholas…" Rick said back, shaking his head a little, but Amanda already realized they'd started…bargaining for her common ground. "He's gotta go," he continued, "He's a threat. I won't have him putting us into jeopardy."

"I _know_," Amanda repeated, much like she'd been doing since last night, and told him the threat he'd made to her when she had come to the camp the first time, a lifetime ago now… "_If you try to pull something—one little, smallest thing that would put anyone here in jeopardy, I'll kill you myself_," she quoted, "I still remember it. I know you'll kill him."

Rick simply nodded in answer. "But just wait a little while," Amanda said then, holding the railings of the little bed. "Deanne won't like it. This's gonna start something, you know it."

Even though she would get Deanne agree with him on Nicholas, the older woman would never let Rick execute someone. Deanne was too civilized for that, she wasn't like them. Amanda had already realized that, too. She knew where this was going, and she knew where she was standing too… but… but if she…stopped this before thing blew out of proportion, and guns started blazing, then perhaps…they would really find a common ground. "She's in mourning" she told him, staring at his eyes, "She's lost her son, Rick."

And that was the only thing that would put Rick Grimes on hold from his decision, Amanda knew.

Again, he nodded in silence, accepting it. She let a small breath out. She'd just gained time…she would…do something.

It was still early to call it a day, but they didn't leave their room for the hall too. A heavy somber air was hung there like everywhere else in the town, everyone had slowly retreated to their own rooms.

So they went to bed, but they didn't fuck this time. Rick just lay down, pulling her closer to him, making lazy circles around her upper arm and shoulder as she rested herself half over his body, her head at his chest. Despite everything it still felt…nice. The silent wasn't disturbing, either, she usually got very tensed with silence—and when she was emotionally stressed she always started rambling, but she wasn't stressed, either.

She had no idea how she was…she couldn't call it exactly happiness—her stomach wasn't making those flip flops, her heart wasn't beating madly at her chest… she was just… she didn't know… But perhaps she wasn't supposed to know… perhaps she just should stop overthinking, overanalyzing every damn thing, she always overanalyze everything, always wary… always try to prepare herself for everything… there was no threat here, she was lying down in the arms of the man she loved… she could just…stop… just lay down—and enjoy—whatever the hell it was that she was feeling.

"I went to the woods today to look for a ring…" Rick said then after a while. Surprised, she lifted her head up at him on his chest, "Couldn't find one…to your liking. Sorry."

She smiled at him a bit, "Always a big stupid piece of rock, right?" she asked.

He nodded. "Some people are very…predictable."

"Hmm mm…" he hummed, and she rested her head back on his chest.

She let out a deep breath, "This is good…" she said, "Us… like this…I'd say almost…" she looked for the word again…

"Peaceful…?" Rick asked, and she realized it. It was just peaceful, them…being together like that, despite everything.

"Peaceful…" she muttered out back, "I'm kinda worried we just jinxed ourselves."

He smiled at that back, she sensed it. "Yeah, me too," he said, "Walkers might just attack—or overrun the place."

"Or the Wolves would throw Molotov cocktails," she supplied.

He sighed out, "There's that, too."

They strolled into another silence again, before Rick broke it up with a small, "Amanda…"

"Hmm?" she asked back.

"I'm very glad you wanted to see if I got the bite."

She smiled big. "So I am, Rick," she told him back, "I'm very glad you…bit me."

# # #

Two days later, in the morning, after they just woke up, they learned Deanne had sent Nicholas to the exile at the night.

* * *

_A/N: First of all, got you there, right? Ha ha, if the show played with Glenn's death, I can do it, too! :) __Feel pretty evil, yes._

_But as storytelling purposes, if Glenn really died, I would never had Rick stay calm, not going on a total havoc over the idiots, and I didn't want that. In truth, I really thought of it, but it just wouldn't have worked._

_I also gotta tell you from now on, the main pairing of this story will be Rick and Amanda, for the reasons, I started enjoying writing them much more than Beth and Daryl, and the canon revolves around Rick, so it's got more stuff, too. But Daryl and Beth still will be around, I think of them as a big family of four, and still have plans for them, too._

_I also changed the summary etc, so I think the story is ready for the second phase, hope you'll stick around, enjoy._


	33. Chapter 33

_A/N: Please, be warned that toward to the end of the chapter there might be a scene that might irk you reading. _

XXXIII.

The morning after Rick had told her he was very glad she wanted to see if he got the bite hadn't started well. Amanda told herself she would have guessed it… she'd seriously jinxed herself. First Carl, now this, she grunted in her mind seeing the clear suspicion in Carol's eyes as the older woman regarded her curiously as they sat around the island in the kitchen with Beth after the breakfast. "Are you pregnant?" Carol asked.

_Come on!_ She forced herself not to exclaim and settled down Judith on her lap instead, and gave the baby the little toy they'd found in the house, the ire was rising inside her despite her best efforts… "I don't know," she snapped, "We _just_ tried it." Everyone fucking seemed to think they were getting married because she got pregnant.

_You got her knocked up, dad?_ Carl had asked his father this morning when Rick had told him the news—just like that as if his father wouldn't have done it otherwise… wouldn't want to marry her if she didn't get _accidently_ knocked up. The notion pissed her off greatly as she started seeing that everyone would assume _that_… They even might think she somehow got Rick _fooled_ and got knocked up to force his hands.

Dammit! Why was it _so_ hard to believe he would _want_ to have a baby with her? She knew their world wasn't rainbows and kittens, they'd just lost Noah two days ago, and almost Glenn too…but goddammit… Rick was a family man. She'd realized it at the first second. Was it really so surprising that he wanted to have a baby with her? She wondered if Carl, Carol, or anyone else would have been this surprised if Rick had decided to do it with Michonne. As soon as the thought appeared in her mind, Amanda also knew the answer. No, they wouldn't have been. It was just _her_.

She knew she shouldn't have bothered by it. Everyone was entitled to their own fucking opinion, and she didn't care. She was what she was, and she was never going to apologize for it, too, never. She'd made her bed a long time ago, and she was prepared to lie within, she had been always, but still… she fucking hated it, the thought everyone thinking that she had _forced_ Rick into this.

She glanced down, her eyes catching at Judith. And how…peaceful they had been this morning when they had woken up. While she'd tried to get the little baby up from her cot, Judith had clutched her hair in her tiny fist, and Amanda had let out a small laugh as the baby started pulling it, and told her she was _just_ like her father…. "Now Daddy likes pulling my hair too when we play, sweetheart…" she'd said—

And Rick had grunted out softly from the bed… "You're corrupting her, _sweetheart_—"

Amanda had then sheepishly given him a look together with a "who me" smile, and for a moment, for a moment, it'd really looked like normal…peaceful…a family having a normal morning… then Rick said he was going to tell it to Carl.

Then Carl had asked Rick that… as if _that_ could have been the only, only fucking reason why Rick Grimes would want to marry Amanda Shepherd. _You got her knocked up, dad?_

Amanda suppressed a sigh. She'd wondered how Carl would react, she knew Carl had a very close bond with Michonne, and Amanda had never been good with children. Rick then had told his son no, they had _decided_ it together. In answer Carl had just shrugged off with a _whatever_.

She truthfully hadn't expected this, but she hadn't expected it would bother her this much, either. She wanted to have the same bond she had started having with Judith with Carl, too. She wanted him to come to her when he got…mad or something instead of Michonne. She wanted him to tell her about that girl he got hots for. Amanda wanted them to be a family. She wanted them to be a whole big fucking _happy_ family.

Beth turned to her. "So how are you going to do it?" she asked. Amanda looked at her confused. "The ceremony," Beth clarified, "How are you going to marry?"

How were they going to marry? Well, Amanda had no idea. The thought had never crossed her mind before, even before the turn, but really how one was supposed to get married after the world ended? It wasn't anything legally binding anymore. In truth, it was just a ceremony. "Uh—I guess we can ask Father Gabriel to marry us," she said, pursing her lips down.

The notion…that whimpering coward being the one who would bind them together bothered her, too, though. Because even if they would just say the words, Amanda still knew it was more than that, it _meant_ much more than that; she was going to be his wife, legally binding or not.

Carl, taking the orange juice from the cooler, shook his head. "Dad ain't religious. Don't you know that?" he shot back.

Inwardly, Amanda sighed. Outside she just eased off a half of shrug. "Neither am I."

Carl mimicked her gesture, "Whatever."

He left the kitchen. She shared a look with Beth, who gave her an emphatic one back at her. "He'll get used to it," Carol tried to comfort her with a matter of fact voice.

Amanda nodded. "Yeah," Beth encouraged too, holding Judith's arm, "He will."

Amanda nodded again. People always got used to everything at the end, it was a lesson she'd learned a long time ago, but it didn't mean like they liked it. There were a lot of things she'd gotten used to it, all her life had been a pretty sum of things she didn't mind, things she didn't care, things she didn't like, and things she fucking hated. She really didn't want it to be like that with Carl. She wanted the young man liked her…even _loved_ her, not this whatever attitude.

"Rick?" Carol asked then, "What's he gonna do?"

"For now, nothing," Amanda answered, turning her mind from one trouble thought to another, "I told him to wait."

Carol gave her another curious look. "Why?"

"Deanne…" she explained, "She lost her son. She needs—to have her time."

Giving her a look, Carol shook her head. "That's sweet," Carol told her back, with a smile and all, and again Amanda felt again the old woman was anything but what she seemed… Amanda knew their kinds, too. In her precinct, sometimes women came…with kind faces, and gentle tones and sweet words, they spoke to you and you believed they could never ever commit such felonies…murder people in cold people, but the truth at the end came out. The last woman who gave her the same kind of smiles that Carol Peletier did had killed her husband over two years, adding a small dose of arsenal in his food every night. So Carol might fool Alexandrians, but she wasn't fooling Amanda. Rick seemed like he trusted her, and that was enough for her, but still she wasn't fooled.

"I want her to stay coolheaded," Amanda explained, "I want _both_ of them stay coolheaded," she corrected. "We need them." She felt it…deep in her stomach, Amanda really felt it, her gut feeling—what she had told Rick was true, they needed Deanne's visionary, both Rick and her were like wary animals, keen on survival where Deanne had…more ambitions than just staying alive—and even though she was really, _really_ wary of people with big ambitions, what she had also told Rick was true, without their visionary the humankind would have still stayed in their caves. No. Amanda wouldn't really like her child or Judith to grow up in a cave. Deanne needed them to survive, but they also needed to her to build a bit _more _than a safe cave. It might work. It had to. If only she could keep them coolheaded…make them find a common ground.

"Rick needs to deal with it," Carol said though, "The town—it's buzzing."

Amanda gave her a look. "Buzzing?"

"They worry."

"People always do that," Amanda said back, looking at Judith as she started wheezing again.

"People are wary. They're expecting _something_. They also started _talking_."

Intrigued, Amanda turned her look at the older woman again. Now, people did that too all the time. "Hmm…" Amanda commented.

"They mentioned…an accident."

She started hopping slowly the baby in her arms as her wheezing grew more, "What kind of an accident?"

"The kinds that got you exiled out," Carol answered.

"Hmm…"

"Those people…those people she sent to exile… I think they raped a girl."

Amanda stared at the woman, bringing Judith closer to her, as Beth looked at them shocked. But somehow Amanda wasn't surprised all that much. She'd started some pretty shit happened here before they came here, things that had made Deanne understand she needed _cops_.

But there was another point that interested her, interested her more than anything. "That surgeon?" so Amanda asked, "Pete Anderson… was he…involved too?"

Carol gave her a look, but shook her head. "I don't know."

Amanda let out a sigh in answer. She was fucking hating this.

# # #

Alexandria was a hive of unrest.

Daryl could sense the tension in the air, that pregnant pause as if waiting bad things to happen. _Again_. Sitting at the usual post at the porch's railings, he shook his head. How close they'd come to lose Glenn. How they lost Noah. There wasn't anything left from him, either, Daryl recalled, inwardly shivering. They'd only seen his red blue hoodie…covered with blood and…remains…

The thought brought the memories back… the way they'd found out the remains of the children after the prison attack with Beth… He let out a small sigh, he was so tired of losing people, so tired, but at least Glenn was with them. Last night…last night had been hard, a long, hard night…Beth's cries as Maggie screamed in her arms…

They'd been trying…they'd been trying…a life…a real life like Beth had said, but how it could be ever possible now… The party was good, having Beth like that, but this was their reality, and the world had just sent them another waking up call. Alexandria had been trying not to hear it, aside Deanne and Aaron it seemed, but _soon_ they'd started waking up, too, Daryl could sense it, too.

Rick—Rick wasn't going to take this well. Daryl knew that, too.

As if on the cue, the other man came out of the house, looking solemn and stiff. Daryl gave Rick a half nod, and the man returned it back. So, Daryl had also heard the news. Last night Beth had told him that Rick and Amanda had decided to have a baby…get _married_. Daryl had thought Rick had finally lost it… He just didn't know. He loved the little ass kicker as his own, but he could never dare to do it… He then wondered if Beth would want it…one day she would want to have a baby, too, she'd used to say she always wanted babies while she took care of Judith…and even Amanda Shepherd wouldn't have resisted the natural call when it had happened…Daryl wondered.

A baby… a baby with Beth… a little baby girl with her wide blue eyes and sand blonde hair… _Jesus Christ!_

_Get a grip on yourself,_ Dixon, he berated himself.

He gave Rick another look, searching, wondered if that was what the other man felt too, as well, and Rick really, _really_ must love the eccentric police officer if he wanted to marry her… Daryl thought Beth again, then… and shook his head.

"I'm going to the woods," Rick stated, tilting his left hip upward in his usual way, one foot ahead, "Wanna come?"

"Again?" Daryl asked. The man had passed whole day out in the woods again, but then again, Alexandria was really restless, and he could hardly blame anyone for wanting to clear his head off—Daryl wanted to clear his head of as well, but he would expect—he would expect Rick started react now—because Daryl also knew he could not let what happened go aside.

But Rick seemed like…he was dawdling. Waiting. Daryl wasn't sure of what.

The former sheriff nodded. "Yeah. I—I—Amanda and I—we're getting—uh…married," he said, and paused, "Gotta find her a ring."

Daryl nodded back. "I know," he admitted, "Beth told me yesterday."

Rick frowned. "Did she know?"

Daryl shrugged off, "Girls talk." He paused, "The baby—uh—you wanted it, right?" Daryl asked tentatively. Beth had said they wanted to have a baby…but Daryl couldn't still understand—they'd been constantly fighting, got just a break half of a week ago… but _sometimes_ they lost themselves, lust got better of themselves… He'd done the same, too, came inside Beth while at the barn… _Jesus Christ!_

But understanding his point, Rick shook his head, frowning, "_Yes_," he stressed out, "Did you really think I wanted to marry her because she got knocked up?" he asked then.

Daryl gave him a half shrug_,_ "Just a thought."

Rick's eyes turned sterner. "I told Carl this morning," he told him, "He asked me the same, too."

_Ah…_ "It's…sudden, man," Daryl said back to soften the ball. "You were just biting off each other's heads a week ago."

Curtly, Rick nodded. "I want to check the quarry tomorrow," he said then, "We should get to work."

Feeling relieved the marriage and baby talk was over, Daryl nodded back. "Yeah…" he agreed, "What about Nicholas?" he asked further, "What're we going to do about him?"

Rick started walking to the steps, shaking his head, "For now, nothing. Amanda wants me to wait. Deanne lost her son. We—we should give her time to mourn."

Daryl gave him another long look. That was pretty decent for Shepherd, but also ominous. Daryl knew Rick wasn't going to let it go. "And then?" Daryl prompted, following him.

"Then I'll deal with him," Rick said plainly.

Daryl only nodded in answer. With them, dealing with something mostly meant eliminating threats now. He understood he already knew it as well, much like the rest of Alexandria, tense air, the gloom and all the shit. Daryl wondered if he should have taken the gun after the party. They started walking towards the gate, and Rick stopped in front of it, squinting at the massive structure.

He turned to Daryl. "Did the boy tell you how he'd escaped?" he asked.

Daryl shook his head. "Nah…He just said he escaped."

"We need to know." He turned around and started walking to the surgeon's house across Deanne's. He knocked their doors with a heavy fist only once, and waited until the door opened. The door creaking half, Sam's mother's blonde head showed off, "Rick—" she said softly, looking at him, then her eyes caught the sight of him, too, "I—uh—is everything okay?"

Rick nodded. "Yeah. We just need to ask a few questions to Sam," Rick told the agitated woman.

From the ajar door, the woman's face got whiter. "Did—did he something? He's…he's getting so…I don't know… He was always such a sweet boy, shy and sweet…sometimes I don't recognize him—" she said, shaking her head.

Rick cut him off, "No…no. It's okay," he assured her, "He—just—uh, he escaped to the woods a few days ago."

The woman's hand went to her mouth in shock. "He—he went there—_alone_?" she whispered out in fear.

"He followed me," Daryl sustained, "He wanted to get away… he said he broke…some statues or something."

The blonde woman's face lost a bit of her fright, and she let out a sigh, exasperated. "I know it was him," she said then, opening the door fully. They saw a slight redness across her upper cheek… And both frowned at it.

"What happened there—?" Rick asked, his tone edging.

The woman bowed her head quickly, running from their eyes, "I—I fell."

Daryl knew she was lying. She was such a bad liar too, he wondered why she was even trying, but he knew it was hard to confess to anyone you got beaten. Rick took a step closer to her, "Did—did he do this, Jessie?" Rick asked.

The woman—Jessie shook her head. "I—I fell." She turned aside, "I'll get him."

After the woman's retreating back, they both shared a look. Sam came with his mother a few minutes later, looking all sweet and shy in his blue pajamas and Daryl for a moment almost didn't recognize him. He was looking at his bare feet, as if he already knew he was in trouble—shy and avoiding—both avoidant and aggressive—the boy reminded Daryl his own, he realized, as something seized in his chest. His lips flattening, he wondered if there was any redness on the boy like his mother's… if Sam had…fallen as well.

An ire started coursing through his body, and he shook his head. "Hey, boy, head up. Ain't nothing to worry about," he told the little man, "We just gonna ask you some questions."

Sam lifted his head up, looked up at him. "Am I not in trouble?"

Daryl shook his head. "Nah…"

"How did you escape?" Rick asked, leaning towards him down, "It's important, so we can protect ourselves," Rick told him, too, and stopped for a moment, "Do you know what happened two days ago?" he asked as the same time his mother exclaimed—

"Rick!"

Rick didn't heed it. "Do you know?" he insisted, leaning down further, holding up his gaze.

Looking at his eyes, the young child nodded. "They …they killed Noah," he told them, "I met him at the infirmary—Dad looked at his leg."

Rick nodded. "The woods are dangerous. The walkers…monsters are out there. You shouldn't escape." Sam nodded back. "No more kid stuff," he warned the young child sternly, and Daryl knew it was what he used to tell Carl, too, back in the days.

No more kid stuff… Kids…kids weren't allowed be to kids no more. Satisfied, Rick straightened up, "Tell me how did you escape," he ordered.

"Enid…" the boy said, "Enid climbs over the wall and takes off the woods, too. I saw her… did it, too."

Rick let out a grunt. Daryl gave him a look. "Carl…he's a thing for the girl," the other man explained, leaning to his ear. Daryl's look turned almost amused… like the father, like the son… It appeared Carl Grimes had a thing for the wild ladies, too.

"Enid… Enid has been always difficult," Jessie supplied, looking at them, "I know Ron—"

"She doesn't like Ron—" Sam interrupted, "She said he's a boring shmuck."

Jessie let out a gasp, bringing her hand to her mouth again, "Samuel Anderson, watch that tongue!" She turned to them, her face getting red everywhere, "I'm sorry… he really isn't like this usually. It's—it's just—" she faltered, shaking her head.

"Ya can't protect her all the time," Daryl said back, "He said he ain't seen any walker yet."

Rick looked at her surprised. "He didn't?"

Jessie's expression turned stiff. "He—he doesn't need to," she said, walking to them closer, "He's just a child," she whispered.

"He gotta see the real world," Rick said back flatly, "Y'all do!"

Her expression softened, she shook her head again, "I—I know…" she whispered.

Rick nodded at her. "We can show him," Daryl told her then, "We're going to the woods—" he turned to the young boy. He couldn't escape but he could come with them. "Do ya want t' come with us, boy?"

Sam turned to his mother. Jessie looked torn for a moment, then slowly she nodded. "Just get him back before his father returns."

# # #

As she walked to the Deanne's residence, Amanda noticed her younger—now only son—entering into the make-shift church they'd built in the town from one of the houses, and something from his movements, the wariness and amateurish stealth got her attention.

Well, there was something going on there, she almost felt it. The guy was mad about his big brother, and she already knew he liked Rick as much as his brother had, so… but Amanda suspected they might have another problem now, too. Well, she could always get the truth out of from the father later. She had another thing with deal right now.

"I need to talk to Deanne—" Amanda declared stiffly to her husband, as the old man gave her a look and opened his mouth. Amanda cut him off, "No, I need to." She looked at him hard, "I know what happened with those guys she sent to exile."

A minute later, she was in front of the town's leader. "That's why you were looking for cops, right?" Amanda asked her, "Your people got out of the control and you wanted to have someone to help you with it if it happened again."

"Correct," Deanne told her back, her face still ashen, but other than that the woman looked collected, "I never lied to you Amanda. I needed you. I still do. We need to protect this place sometimes also from within. You—Rick and you realize this."

Amanda felt incredibly relieved with that. She sat at the chair in front of her desk. "Then do you know Rick is right?" she asked, giving her a look.

"It's not about who is right," Deanne said back, "but what's. What Alexandria _is_. Those people I sent away—they didn't get it. They said they didn't rape the girl, they said she never said _no_," Deanne continued, and Amanda felt a tightness in her chest. That was what she had used to tell herself too each time she felt…guilty for Joan, lying in the darkness in her quarters, telling herself she had never said no—not even when Dawn had forced her, she'd never refused—but she'd always known deep down what they were—just excuses to ease her guilty consciences. She would then think of what ifs until the morning came, until her mind screamed off at her… the familiar guilt had started coming at her again, and she tried to shake it off… she'd done what she had to… and it was just another excuse, too. She could never apologize for being who she was—but sometimes—she wished—she _really_ wished she could have just said she was sorry—so truly, deeply, utterly sorry.

"I didn't take it," Deanne continued, "She was weak, newly came back from outside. She was trying to get back on her feet, and instead of helping her, they exploited her, exploited her weakness, her fragile state just because they _could_. This isn't Alexandria," Deanne stated firmly.

Amanda nodded, "That isn't Rick," and agreed, "You know it. You wanted to him to protect us, to keep us together. Because that's what he does."

Deanne shook her head. "Rick—Rick wants to be the judge, the jury, and the executioner all the same time. I know it was hard for him out there—for all of you, but that _isn't_ Alexandria, either."

But Amanda shook her head in protest back. "Rick isn't like that, either. He doesn't want to be that man. It's not of his cloth." Amanda knew it. It simply wasn't in him—he could walk over the line-that thin red line, but he could never cross it. Beth had been right about that all along. "I know how you feel. I was in your shoes once. What I said at the interview really came from personal experience, Deanne." She looked at the other woman directly in the eyes, "He's a good, honest man, someone you'd want at your side if you're lucky," she repeated.

The older woman nodded. "Then we don't have any problem, Amanda. I still want him at my side," she said, "But he needs to understand what Alexandria _is_." The woman stared at her back, "We don't kill people here just because we're afraid."

And that was going to be the main issue, she guessed. But she was tired of this—because in deep down, she also Deanne was right too, they—they couldn't keep doing this just because they were afraid—she'd already had this conversation once with Beth, but her answer hadn't changed despite everything since then. They did what they had to…but they were trying to get to live part now. Her hand briefly touched at her stomach. She didn't want her baby to live like she had had to—always wary, her guard always up… She wanted her baby to be safe, secure, but how the hell they would be safe if their guards were lowered? There had to be a common ground, she felt again, there had to; they couldn't live like this; a talking, breathing example of dichotomy, going between a wary, surviving animal and a trying human.

She let out a small sigh, and decided to focus on the more worldly problems. All this existentialist problems had started being too much for her taste. That wasn't her, either, Amanda had been always practical the most. "The surgeon," she asked then, "What's happening with him? Was he—" she started, but didn't finish. No. He wasn't. Deanne would have never let him stay if he had been involved too.

"No," the older woman also told her the same.

Amanda nodded, but there was still something. "But he…he loses it sometimes, doesn't it?"

Deanne gave out a sigh too. "If I sent away all the people who…lose it sometimes there wouldn't have left anyone around here, Amanda."

Amanda shook her head, giving her a look. "But he's not _anyone_. He's the surgeon, right?"

"Pete knows if he crosses the line I'll send him off, too," the woman said sternly, with assurance too, and added again, "He'll behave."

For a moment, Amanda couldn't be sure. Dawn had almost been so confident in herself, believing she could have dealt with Gorman and his friends, but at the end she had lost them, too. "He beats his wife," Amanda stated placidly, "Possibly his children, too."

Deanne gave her a hard look. "He's stopped. Stopped drinking, too."

But so he'd done it…and Deanne had let it go… it seemed Alexandria wasn't all that much _that_ place, either. "He was devastated," Deane continued, almost explaining, "Jessie forgave him, too. Asked me…begged me not to send him away—" And she'd given a haircut to Rick as soon as he'd put a step inside the town.

Some women were like this, always needing a man to protect and provide for them, and Amanda tried not to judge anyone, everyone worked with what they had, so long as they kept the fuck clear away from her own man. But the problem was, it wouldn't stop there. It just didn't stop there.

"He's started drinking again," so she reminded her, "We're here almost a week now, but already seen him drunk more than twice. He's losing it again, Deanne."

Deanne shook her head, "He'll behave," she repeated but this time it had come off more like the older woman was trying to convince herself.

Amanda looked at her then, levelling at her a long, searching look then she understood it. She just felt it. Deanne _needed_ the doctor. "And you're giving him his own garden to make him behave, Deanne?" she asked back, "to keep him happy?" she shook her head, "I already saw this film. It doesn't have a happy ending."

No, it'd ended Dr. Edwards getting Beth to kill another man. Amanda stood up, letting out a sigh. "Do you remember what I also told you at our interview?" she asked, and continued quickly, "I told you he's always right. Rick knows what he knows."

Deanne shook her head then, "Not this time," the older woman said, "This time he _is_ wrong."

"Carol says he's right even when he's wrong," Amanda only said before she turned around and walked out.

The next morning, they learned Deanne had sent Nicholas to the exile at the night.

# # #

He should have never listened to Amanda, should have just gone and killed that sonofabitch. That-that was what had happened when he tried to be understanding. She'd sent him away. She knew he was guilty and sent him away out there, where he would find people—or worse got caught… the Wolves were still out there, looking for new victims for their blades. And they had just sent a vindictive, bitter man with a grudge out. His mind went back to Noah's hometown and the utter, sick destruction he'd seen there—and went even back further—Governor—how the man had come back and taken away what they had. His family was here, he'd brought back his people here. She wanted to keep them safe. She wanted to keep all of them safe, and but how the fuck he was going to do it when they didn't _let_ him.

Nicholas…Nicholas that way was just a liability, a risk they wouldn't take. Right or wrong, he didn't care. He wasn't taking any chances anymore. No more. No fucking more.

"I respected your loss!" he yelled walking into the Deanne's office, "And you went my back, sent him off in the dark like a thief!"

Deanne stood up from her desk, as stiff and cold as an iceberg, as Amanda followed him into the room. "I understand your fears," Deanne said, "but it was my call, Rick."

Her tone…her tone was so condescending for a moment Rick felt he caught up fire… "Bullshit!" he shot back, walking to her desk, "You wanted me to keep you safe!" He braced his hands on her desk, and leaned forward, "And how I'm gonna do it if you don't fucking listen to me," he hissed.

"Rick—Deanne," Amanda started but Deanne cut her off.

"But I _did_ listen to you, Rick," the woman told him back with the same hiss, "You just told me you _knew_." She leaned toward him further too, "You said you didn't need proof. You didn't try to talk to me, didn't try to explain, didn't try to get a confession from Nicholas like the cop you were supposed to be, didn't try to do anything but _just_ told me you already knew."

Well, he supposed he just did that. From behind, he heard Amanda's deep sigh in the sudden silence. "I was still right," he said, pulling back from the desk.

Deanne shook her head. "It was just your conviction," she said in answer, "I, on other hand, got it out of Nicholas, just like _you_ should have."

Rick stared at her, "Then you sent him away."

"We don't kill people here, Rick," she told him coldly.

He shook his head. Why the woman couldn't understand it. "I'm trying to protect this place," he said, his voice turning into a rasp as he leaned forward again, "Why _don't_ you see it?"

Deanne shook her head again. "Not all the people out there are a threat, Rick," she said, stressing out each word, "You have to accept it now."

"You don't know that," he said back, shaking his head, "You can't take the risk."

"I _can_—" Deanne said, "I did." The old woman gave him a look, "I did it with you."

Her words were pointed, and Rick didn't miss the meaning, but he still shook his head. "You still don't understand. If I'm wrong, it's only person. One person, _one_ person who deserved it—"

She cut him off, her tone getting even stiffer, "We don't get to decide here in Alexandria who deserve to live, and who don't."

Rick leaned in on her again, "You _should_. Because if you're wrong—it's all of them…It's all Alexandria who will suffer the consequences."

With that, he turned and left the room.

There was nothing else he could talk with Deanne. She could never get it, never understood what was at the stakes here before she had suffered those consequences. And he knew that wasn't something he could risk.

Outside he looked at the town—the green-white houses—and gardens and backyards… He'd placed his hopes in this place, he couldn't let it go. No.

He could _never_. They needed this place, it was going to be their home; a place his family was going to be safe. He was going to be a father again—he wanted to be a father again. He'd taken so many life now, he wanted to give something back—created something—He wasn't only good for killing… He could _still_ do this. He'd promised them, he'd promised Amanda, promised her a real life.

This—this wasn't the real life. The real life was out there. The hard, cold reality—but he could keep them safe here. No one mattered but them.

"Rick—" Amanda called out at him, walking toward him in the street, "Rick… she did what she thought right," she said, her voice soft, trying to calm him down. It got him pissed even more.

"Have you _not_ listened what I said?" he bit off, waving his arm at her, "If she's wrong…"

Her face twisted at his tone. "I know, I told her, too. I told her even if you're wrong, you're still right." She paused for a second, "And she's not as self-righteous as you think. She knows about Pete Anderson, but turns her head at the other side, hoping the doctor will behave, because she needs him." She paused, "I think it's her husband. He needs the doctor."

Rick didn't think any further then. "Get ready," he ordered her simply, "We're taking it."

Amanda looked at him, then opened her mouth—but before she could say anything—from the house across Deanne's, Jessie threw herself out of the door—frantic and screaming—her face…her mouth and her nose bleeding— then Beth followed her…

They both stared at her… "Rick! Help!" Beth screamed over the sounds of fighting inside the house... "It's Daryl…! He's lost it!"

# # #

It was Beth's idea.

When she had learned his new friend, she decided to meet him, too. She baked cookies and they went to look for Sam. The boy—Daryl had discovered—was a much better company than most of the grown ups he knew, so when he'd asked him if he could go out with him the woods again, Daryl had just shrugged and told him they were going to see.

Daryl had even begun to play with the idea of taking both of them in the woods and started teaching hunting and tracking again, but he wasn't sure what the boy's parents would say—it was a risk but a risk they would all take, Rick was right about that, these people gotta see the real world now. Even Rick still took Carl out in the woods, so he couldn't get soften—and Daryl had never seen any more protective parent than Rick Grimes.

So—maybe—maybe they would see yes. Her mother wouldn't be a problem but the father—Daryl didn't know. "I still can't believe you've got a small fan," Beth said, smiling at him, her cookies at her hands, "I mean, who would guess?"

Daryl grunted out. Certainly not him. "It's so sweet, Daryl. I'm—"Arriving to the house, Daryl stopped Beth, putting his hand on her arm. "Shhs… listen to this," he whispered.

There were…voices—angry sounding voices coming faintly from the other side. They approached to the door carefully, "Are you fucking joking with me?" a male voice asked angrily, his voice coming more clearly as they got closer, "How did you let him go? Are you stupid, or you just having heats? Did you open your legs for them, too?" the man ranted on with the same anger as they stared at each other.

"Pete—" Jessie's breaking voice followed then, "Please. You're not well. You've been drinking again… You promised Deanne. You promised _me_."

"I promised you nothing!" he shouted, and a shattering followed, as Jessie screamed… then Daryl heard Sam's frightened pleadings…

"Daddy, please…" the boy begged through his cries, "Daddy, please. I won't do it again. I promise I won't. Please."

Another shout came out—and Sam's wails… Daryl felt something in him broke too—and anger swept through him… His eyes blackening, he gripped the knob and opened the door… It was closed… but he couldn't stop… Sam was crying—crying his father to stop… much like he used to do… and Beth was calling out at him, too… but Daryl couldn't listen… he had to go to Sam… he had to save him…

Throwing all of his weight, he hit the door-as hard as he could—and didn't stop—kept hitting until it broke off.

Then he stormed off inside—get the sonofabitch off of Sam—and threw at him at the wall.

"You—sonofabitch," he screamed, and he started hitting.

# # #

Beth couldn't believe it. She just couldn't.

She was just going to meet this little guy—would have a bit of good time with him and Daryl, Daryl really sounded like he'd developed a liking to the small boy and Beth wanted to meet him, a small boy with him… she so wanted to see it… since the time Amanda had told her she wanted to have a baby, the thought had entered in her mind, too… and she'd started wondering… She'd no idea what Daryl would say… what he'd _feel_… Beth knew how much he cared for the little ones, how much he had looked after Sophie, looked after her even when everybody else had stopped doing it…

Then everything turned to a nightmare…like how it was each time with them, and instead of having a bit of good time, they saw Sam getting beaten by his father.

Beth wanted to cry. She rushed at him, trying to get him back off at him as he corned him off the wall. But Daryl dug his elbow at her side, totally obvious the fact it was her, "You sonofabitch!" he grunted out again, his hands at his neck.

Beth felt her breath knocked out of her—her eyes watering—The blond woman—who might be Jessie came to her side. From her nose and out of the corner of her mouth blood was dripping it. Beth felt like crying. "I'm so sorry—" the woman cried out over the screams of fighting, "He—he learned he went out the woods with Rick and Daryl. I'm sorry."

Beth straightened up as they tried to punch each other's faces… She needed to find someone. She needed to find someone to stop him, before Daryl killed the son of a bitch.

"Go and find someone," Beth screamed at her, running to Daryl again, "Daryl! Stop it."

She tried to hold his arm as his hands held the other man's neck, "Daryl, please!" Jessie opened the door frantically, and from the half open door, Beth saw Rick and Amanda just outside, standing a few yards away from the house—talking.

Leaving Daryl's side, Beth sprinted outside, "Rick! Help!" she shouted at them over the screams, "It's Daryl. He's lost it!"

Without losing any second, they both started running. As soon as they got inside, Rick went to Daryl and got him a tight grip and started pulling him off of the man. Daryl started fighting him off too, "Daryl!" he screamed.

"The sonofabitch," Daryl screamed, "He beat Sam!"

Sam was crying at the corner, his legs pulled at his chest—his head hidden in his knees, his hands covering his ears, as if he didn't want to hear this. Beth almost started crying seeing like this. Rick grabbed Daryl tighter, pulling him away again as Amanda screamed at her, "Beth!" she waved her arm at Sam and Jessie, "Get them outside, now."

Beth rushed to Sam's side and threw her arms over his, and started pulling her upward. Rick finally managed to pull Daryl off of him and Amanda sprinted forward to hold the other man at his place as he tried to lunge at Daryl again as Rick held him back… then something else happened too.

The drunken man turned side and hit Amanda right across at her jaw, and then rising his knee, he kicked her at the groin.

Beth stared at her as Amanda doubled with a scream, dropping on her knees on the floor as Rick suddenly let go of Daryl—his eyes widening as Amanda twisted herself and fell on her side, her legs pulled at her chest to cover herself as the man kicked her again—Rick flew at the man.

Then… Rick lost it, too.

As she rushed to Amanda's side, Beth saw them going through the window.

# # #

His hands on the fucking bastard's neck, his eyes pricking with blood and sweat filling inside from his forehead, Rick tightened his grip where he laid down on the ground—he was going to kill him. The fucking bastard had beat his wife, had beat his child, and as if it wasn't fucking enough, he hit Amanda and kicked _his_ unborn child.

He was going to kill him, be done with it. Be done with all these idiots. He was taking it. He'd enough of these idiots, had enough of their bullshit.

And he'd warned Deanne. He'd fucking warned him. "You kicked my wife!" Rick hissed at him, clutching at him from behind on the asphalt.

"You took my child out the woods!" the man hissed back.

Carl shouted at him, too, "Dad!" as the same time Amanda yelled at him, "Rick! Stop."

But no, he'd done with talking now. He lifted his eyes up, and saw her walking slowly but still hurried toward them, her legs still shaking, a trail of blood slowly slipping out of the corner of her mouth and her lips open—swollen and bleeding—and her sight made him even madder—

He tightened his grip—"Rick! Stop this." This time it was another voice, colder and sterner—and he recognized it. He turned his eyes aside, and looked at Deanne Monroe. "Stop!" the woman ordered at him.

Rick pushed the man off of him, and pulled himself on his knees on the ground. "_Or_ _what_?" he sneered out and his hand reaching out his back, he brought out his gun and pointed it at them—the barrel slightly tipped down.

"Rick!" Amanda shouted as Rick asked again, and looked at Deanne again, "Or what? You gonna send me off too?"

He was done with this fucking mockery, he was so done with it. "Put the gun down, Rick," Deanne told him placidly.

He shook his head, breathing heavily. "You don't get it," he bit off, lowering his hand down a bit, "You _just_ don't. We told you—warned you but you didn't listen. You pretend like you know but you don't. You want me to protect you? Well, I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna protect you from _you_." He waved the arm with gun at her again, "Your way of doing things is _done_," he stated, stressing out the last word, "Starting right now, we live in the real world." He pointed the gun at the man lying sprawled out beside him, "No more taking chances now. We _get_ to decide who deserve to live here, and who don't."

Deanne gave her a stare "That's never been more clear to me than it is right now."

Rick laughed out. "Me? Me? You—you mean me?" He shook his head. "Your way is gonna destroy this place. It's gonna get people killed. It's _already_ gotten people killed." He pulled back at his feet, "I'm not gonna stand by and just let it happen. I'm done with it, Deanne."

"What are you going to do then, Rick, will you shoot me?"

Rick looked at her. Amanda took a step forward, just ahead of Deanne. "Rick," she called him sternly, "That's enough. Put away—" she started, but as the same time Deanne's only remaining suddenly took a step too, and pulled out a gun, at _him_.

"Drop it!" the man ordered as Amanda quick on reflex pulled out her own gun and pointed it at the younger man.

"Spencer!" Deanne shouted at her own son, as Rick turned to the man, his gun now trained at him back in a Mexican standoff.

Michonne just arriving at the scene stared at them. "Everyone!" she yelled out, "Everyone, calm down and put the guns away. _NOW_!"

Amanda pointed Spencer at her head. "You first."

"He first—" the man shot back, and Rick opened his mouth but suddenly stopped, seeing a pained expression flicked across Amanda's face—her hands started shaking, and leaning down, she crossed her legs—"Rick!" she cried out, "Rick! Arghhh—!"

And Rick saw a slight wetness painting between her legs red… Her hands with the gun covered her crotch as Rick flew over her… "No… no… no…!" she screamed, falling— Deanne caught her before she collapsed at the ground.

Rick then understood what was happening… the baby—their baby… He looked at the blood between her legs, then turned around and raised his gun at the doctor.

"I didn't know—I swear I—"

Rick pulled the trigger.

* * *

_A/N: Good lord! I swear writing the end of this chapter with Sam as he pleaded his father-just made me so irked, and sad, that was why I put a warning at the beginning, and Amanda's miscarriage was sad too. For technical details, the pregnancy-the implantation usually start between the fifth and tenth days after the fertilization, and I think I got five days now-she could have a very early miscarriage. Daryl and Sam made me so sad, too, both having parent abuse. That was the reason I wanted to pair them, too, and wanted to have the fight with Pete started with Daryl, then escalate to something even worse._

_This chapter was hard to write, as well, especially I really wanted to have both Rick and Deanne being right at the same time, but regardless of it, suffering consequences, like usually in Walking Dead for worse. I might still get Reg dead too, heh, you know me, I'm kinda...changeable._

_And what happened in Alexandria before, why Deanne sent men away is also canon material from the comics, I read it online. I think they made the whole Grady subplot from there in the show._

_Hope you're still with me, reading and enjoying! Please be kind, and don't hesitate to tell me what you think._


	34. Chapter 34

_A/N: This chapter has references to the phone call Rick hallucinated after Lori's death. Too bad I can't make a "previously on Walking Dead" section here. This is gonna be a bit angsty._

* * *

XXXIV.

Blood, so much blood, there was so much fucking blood.

His eyes red and pricking, Rick carried her to the infirmary, running, as Amanda stayed folded in his arms, crying and groaning with pain—"Baby, hold on—" he murmured at her, bowing his head closer to her ear, "just hold on."

She brought a hand covered with her blood up and fisted it in his shirt. His eyes stared at it as if in a dream. This… this couldn't be happening to them. It could _not_. "M-my baby—" Amanda groaned out, her face twisted with pain, tears overflowing over her cheeks like a flood, leaving salty stains... "…my baby…" she repeated it like a mantra between her pained groans, "m-my b—baby—"

His eyes were burning—burning so much. "It's gonna be okay," Rick forced out, words stuck inside his tight throat like beads of glass, broken and shaken, and meaningless. It was never gonna be okay…_never_. But he was trying… they were both trying… their baby. "Baby, hold on—" he repeated then, "baby, just hold on."

In answer, Amanda only cried more, her hand tightened at his shirt.

Rick wanted to kill the bastard again. His eyes lowered and struck he looked at her groin, the blood still pouring out of her freely, sticky and warm, wetting her dark trousers with darker stains… so much blood. It was so hard to breath… his chest was so tight—and so cold. There was so much fucking blood. He climbed the steps as fast as he could as Beth and Daryl followed him at his hell, Maggie close behind, fear and shock coloring their faces as hard as his. The doctor… Rick then realized. Amanda needed a doctor, and he'd just killed the only one in the town.

The _same_ man who had put her into this condition.

It must have been a sick joke, a sick, cruel joke.

"Maggie!" he called at the bigger Greene. Maggie had made the caesarian on Lori—she'd been working with her father and Carol before. She should know something. "There's so much blood—" Rick told her as they stepped inside, Beth following them closely. His voice was a low whisper too, so Amanda couldn't hear it, "Is it normal?"

Skipping her eyes, Maggie gave him a look. Fear caught him even further, like cold fingers gripping his chest—freezing his heart… Why she was bleeding so heavily? At best she was only pregnant a week. She shouldn't have been bleeding this much. It'd started a few drops at her crotch at first as she crossed her legs, letting out a scream, but before she collapsed on the ground her groin became fully covered with blood, now it was all over legs, leaving blood stains even over his shirt.

Maggie shook her head, her eyes turning to Amanda's legs, too. "I don't know—" the other woman said, "We—we should stop bleeding."

Running to the closest bed, where Tyrese still laid at the corner, Rick lowered her down as gently as he could. She twisted on her side as soon as he did, folding her legs again, and placed her hands between her legs, her head tucked down at her chest, still crying…moaning. Like a man stuck at his heart, Rick stared at her again. It hurt, it hurt so much. Seeing her like that—a fury was building inside him—a hot, scorching fury—killing the bastard wasn't enough—he—he should've done much more—he wanted to do much more… She—she believed in him, she trusted him, she wanted to have his child, he wanted her to have his child—create another life with him… he could still do this… he could still… but he couldn't. He just couldn't. The baby was gone, Amanda was bleeding—bleeding herself inside to out—he couldn't do anything to stop it… He'd done _nothing_. He couldn't protect her, he couldn't protect the baby, and the baby—their baby was gone… He stopped—his breath stopped—what if, what if he lost Amanda too? No—no—No, no, he couldn't. He couldn't lose her, _too_. Not again. He could not live through _that_ again. His eyes turned to Maggie.

As if understanding his unspoken order…plead, the older Green bent down on her. "We should get her on her back," she said and held Amanda at her shoulders.

Amanda trashed, shaking her shoulders to evade the hands in response, "L-leave me a-alone," she grunted with pain, folding herself even further.

Coming closer, Rick leaned on in her, too, "Baby—please—we need to—"

"No!" she cried out, snapping her head up, "Leave me—Arrghh!" she screamed, her face twisting again with pain as another cramp hit her.

"Amanda!" Rick yelled as Beth came closer to her, too. "Amanda, please," the younger woman implored as the same time he saw a blonde woman walking with Deanne in the infirmary.

Rick jolted up, "You—get out!" he hissed at the woman, rising his arm, "get the hell out!"

"Rick—" Deanne called at him, "It's not the time. Amanda needs help. This is Denise," she waved her hand to the other woman, "She was a psychiatrist before—" Rick stared at them.

"A psychiatrist?" he asked back. He was sure he'd seen the blond, slightly overweight woman in the pantry before. She looked anxious, almost jittery looking at them… especially at Amanda.

Deanne nodded. "Yes." She turned to the doctor, gestured with her head, "Denise, please."

Giving her a flittering look, the woman hesitantly started walking to the bed. "What happened?" she asked Rick, her eyes at Amanda as she stayed folded into like a ball on her side at the bed.

"She got kicked during the fight—twice," Rick explained, forcing out the words again. Twice… she got hit twice, and Rick had just watched it happen.

The psychiatrist nodded, looking at Amanda's stomach, "Uh—in which semester she's in?" she inquired.

"We—we just—five days at best," Rick answered. Surprised, the woman's head snapped up at him. He leaned in, "Is it normal?" he asked again, and whispered, "she—she's bleeding so much."

The psychiatrist shook her head, her eyes turning down at Amanda again, "Might be caused of the trauma." She leaned down and spoke to Amanda, "Amanda—we—uh—I need to examine you," she said, clearing her voice, "and stop the bleeding."

Amanda didn't make any sound, didn't even lift her head, she just continued crying, just like she'd been doing since she'd collapsed down. Beth leaned over her again, too, "Amanda, it's gonna be okay," she said, placing tentatively a hand at her shoulder.

Whether it was because the hand belonged to Beth or she just didn't care anymore, Amanda didn't shake it off. She just lay there, crying, her head bowed, not looking at them… and Rick just stayed there, too, his eyes riveted on her shaking, crying, in pain figure, and the fury inside him extinguished too, leaving only a desolated, barren ruins behind. Everything—everything was turning to a ruin at the end. Every fucking thing, and he was so tired now. the baby—their baby was going to be different. They were going to create something beautiful… They were—

_What happened, Rick…?_ the low throaty voice over the static asked him in his mind as he looked at his soon to be wife. She was going to be his wife, they were going to have a baby, they were going to be a family—he was going to put it back together. He was-

"Leave," the doctor said, turning to them, "Give her some privacy." Rick still stayed where he was, though as the others started moving. The doctor gave him a look, "You, too. Please."

Rick shook his head. He wasn't going to leave her. Not this time. He should be there for her. He should've been there for her—he couldn't. He should've protected her—he couldn't. She couldn't be alone… not again… God…not again, please, not _again_… His eyes were burning—so much…so fucking much… _What happened, Rick?_

Turning to him, Beth placed her hand on his arm this time. "Rick, please," the younger woman said, turning him away from Amanda. "Denise is right." Daryl took his other arm, too, "Please."

His eyes skipped at Amanda as she lay there still motionless, drawn into her—and finally, he curtly nodded. He turned, but before they started walking out, Amanda's rough voice stopped them.

"Beth—" Amanda whispered her name so silent he could barely hear it, but then she pulled up her hand between her legs and raised it up half in the air.

Next to him, Beth started crying before she rushed to her friend's side and held her hand tightly. "I'm here," Beth told her over tears, "It's gonna be okay. We all gonna be okay."

Before he left the infirmary, he saw their fingers folded around each other.

Outside, he walked to the steps of the porch, and sat down. Deanna and Maggie stood away from him at the other side as he bowed his head, looking at his hands. They were covered with her blood, their _baby's_ blood.

_What happened, Rick…?_

Daryl walked over to him, and sat down beside him, too. In silence, the other man fished out his cigarettes and pulled one. He offered one to him.

Still in silence, Rick took it and leaned down toward the light Daryl brought up. After the long years, Rick smoked his first cigarette.

He breathed a long drag in, took the smoke in his fingers, and let the smoke out slowly, his eyes staring at it. He wanted to put it back together. He'd found a place, he'd kept them safe, together… He wanted to—Only he couldn't.

He could _never_ put it back together.

_What happened, Rick…?_

Tears followed in silence as Rick took another drag from the cigarette.

# # #

"Dad?" Carl asked, approaching to him as Rick still waited outside the porch. He was alone at the steps, Daryl had left half an hour ago. He'd wanted to check on Sam. Rick tried not to think over that. There was a horrified expression over Carl's face, his earlier indifference when Rick had told him about his second brother or sister was shaken, and Rick saw the boy he'd always known—his son, "The baby?" Carl asked, his voice breaking.

His eyes hurt again. He'd stopped crying, but his eyes still pricking. Looking at his son, Rick shook his head. "I'm sorry," he muttered.

Carl came to him, sitting down on the steps below him, and placed his head at Rick's lap. "I—I was happy when I heard it, dad," Carl whispered at him, "I'm sorry."

Rick nodded, pulling his son closer, wrapping his arm around his neck—and placed his head on his shoulder, too. They stayed in each other's embrace.

# # #

"I-uh—stopped the bleeding," the psychiatrist told them two hours later, fidgeting her hands, standing in front of them at the porch, "Sh—she's lost blood, but she's stable now."

"Why?" Rick asked, standing up from the steps, "Why did she lose that much blood?"

The woman shook her head. "I really can't tell it for sure. This—this isn't my profession. The bleeding stopped, though, so we-uh—we should be grateful for that." She paused, "But still be careful," she went on, "The first week after the miscarriages is vital, she wasn't in her months, but nevertheless, she should stay in the infirmary for two days. She should lay down for a while, too, and uh—uh I think—" Her eyes turned to Rick, glancing at Carl too in the meantime, "Uh—you shouldn't—uh-get intimidate at least for two weeks." She rolled her shoulder, "Just to be safe."

Understanding her point, Rick nodded. It wasn't like that they would have sex just after they lost their baby. In truth, he had no idea what to tell her now—how to talk to her. Rick knew how much Amanda wanted to have this baby, and he'd failed her.

The new doctor gave him another look, this time heavier. "I—I don't know exactly your situation, but she looked like she knew it? You—uh—planned it?"

"Yes!" Rick snapped, hearing it even from the new doctor tensed further his already frayed nerves, "Yes, we _planned_ it, doctor."

The woman hurriedly shook her head. "I—I meant no offense. It's—I wanted to warn you," she explained, "It's very—uh—very usual that women having miscarriage develop a PTSD. She—she might have a hard time with dealing this."

Rick nodded. He already knew it. "Can I see her now?" he asked.

The doctor nodded back. "I mixed a mild sedative in her IV. She's sleeping now," the doctor said, "But yes, you can see her now."

Without another word to the doctor, he turned to his son. "Carl, you go back to home. Ask Carol if she can look after Judith for tonight. You stay with her, too."

Carl nodded. Rick turned, "Dad?" he stopped and turned back, "You—you can have another baby, it's—it's gonna be okay."

In silence, Rick looked at his son. He wanted to believe the words, he really did—but at the end, he just couldn't say anything. Nodding, he went inside, but he wasn't sure for what he'd made the gesture.

Beth was still at her side, holding her hand as she washed the blood off her arm with a sponge as Amanda lay on the bed, her eyes closed. She was clad in light blue scrubs now, a blanket loosely draped over her, wet hair stuck over her forehead. Rick felt another bullet pierced through him seeing her like that—peacefully sleeping as Beth washed the blood off her. Sensing him, Beth lifted her head up, and turned her head aside to give him a look. Rick walked to her. "Thank ya," he told the younger woman, "Thank ya, Beth," he repeated, and he wasn't sure for what he was thanking for, too.

But as if she'd understood, Beth shook her head. "She needs you, Rick," she told him back, "She needs you." _And she'd asked you to stay,_ Rick passed in his mind, but stayed in silence. Beth extended him the sponge, "she _does_."

Rick looked at the sponge, and took it as Beth stood, and started leaving the infirmary. "Beth—" Tyreese called after her, "Beth—uh—can I come back to the house with you?"

Rick shook his head. "Tyreese—" he started, "You don't—"

The big man cut him off, "It's okay." He stopped, as Beth came to his side, and helped him back on his feet. He stopped before they stepped out, "It's going to be okay."

In silence, Rick nodded again. Everyone was telling him the same, but Rick couldn't see it how. He turned to Amanda when they were alone in the room. He'd wanted this, he'd so wanted this, wanted to put it back together—with her. He tried… With his empty hand, he pushed her hair back off her forehead, traced his fingers over her eyebrow— "I'm—sorry, baby, I'm truly sorry…" he whispered at her, leaning closer, and placed his forehead at her stomach, the sponge dropping his hand, "I tried—I really did."

He stayed there like that, his head over her stomach, her hand in his—

"Rick—?" he woke up the next morning with her rough, low voice calling him out.

He lifted his head up from her stomach and looked at her. They stared at each other for a while in silence, her hand still in his before he cleared his throat, straightening his back. "How do you feel?" he asked, forcing out through his tight throat.

"Did you sleep like that last night?"

Rick shrugged, but looked at her, her eyes fixated on his, too. They stared at each other again silently before her lips quavered, her chin twitched, and she blinked—She shook her head, and turning around, lay on her other side facing at wall.

"Amanda—" he softly called at her.

"Leave me alone," she murmured, her voice broken, shaking.

"Amanda…" he repeated, letting out a sigh out, "I—I should've protected you. It—it wasn't your—"

Craning her neck back at him to give him a seething look, she cut him off, "_Don't_ fucking say it!" she hissed, tears welling inside her eyes, red and glazed, a fury flashing in the depths of her greens.

Rick held her gaze, and they looked at each other again for a second, then she shook her head, "Leave me alone, Rick," she repeated, the fire in her quenched, and she sounded—tired. She turned her back on him, "Just go."

"Amanda—"

"Just GO!" she shouted.

He closed his eyes—and gave out a half breath, standing up.

He knew he shouldn't listen to her. This was one of those rare moments a man truly should do the opposite of what his lady asked him to do. She was in pain. Amanda had truly wanted this child, she'd broken every instinct to admit it—admitted how much she wanted to have his child, and he knew she was reacting because of her pain, but if she took her in his embrace, she would have resisted first, then slowly let herself relax with him, and he should do it. He should take her in his embrace, and tell her everything was going to be okay again just everyone had told him, but he was so tired of giving promises he couldn't keep.

"I—I'll look for the doctor," he told her, walking to the door.

Before he left the infirmary, she'd already started crying loudly.

# # #

_Hurt is the part of the package_, Beth had told her before, but Amanda had no idea—had no idea what it meant until now.

Amanda wasn't a stranger to pain, though, she knew pain. Foster homes weren't really kindergartens, and even though she had never been abused, tortured or raped, she got beaten a couple of times pretty badly, and she'd been a police officer in the ADP for almost a decade. She'd been grazed at her arm with a bullet, and had been shot at her shoulder at the line of duty, too. Both times hurt like a bitch, had made her reconsider her options; she'd even thought of signing off after the shot at her shoulder, but this—this wasn't anything like this.

Physically, yeah, it hurt, but she could tolerate it. This—this was something else, something no one seemed to understand… even Rick. The first cramp was like someone had put a knife inside her—well, she had no idea how a knife cutting in her would've felt like, but she could bet it couldn't have been _worse_ than this. And that was _how_ it felt like, like something was ripped off her insides—and something _was _ripped off her—her baby—her small, barely there hope was ripped off her—she felt tears inside her eyes again but she was getting tired of crying now. She wanted to be angry—furious—she wanted to—she wanted to—break everything, everything inside her was ripped off—her baby was ripped off—

She wanted to rip off everything too, but she felt so damn tired even to move her finger, so she just lay there—wondering why everything—_every damn thing _she'd touched was coming to a ruin. She was good for nothing. Tears welled inside her again, she realized—tired or not, they still did, and they fell as Beth stepped inside the infirmary with the blonde woman she'd remembered from yesterday, the psychiatrist.

Amanda didn't know if she should've been enraged over the fact the town had another doctor who attended the med school, which branch didn't matter, or laughed her ass off. All this time they had _another_ doctor who had the basic training and they'd just made her keep inventory at the pantry. A part of her wanted to shout at Deanne—wanted to ask the old woman if she was crazy or just plain dumb, but another part just didn't give a fuck anymore. Why she would bother? Why she had ever bothered?

It was getting hard to answer that question.

"When can I get back to the house?" she asked when they stopped at the bed. All in frankness, she didn't wan to go back to the house, too, it was going to be awful she knew, and she had no idea how—what they were going to talk with Rick, and he didn't look like he knew it, either. Typically. He'd just left her last night. Granted, he'd done what she'd told—_yelled_ at him, but—well, she didn't know. She couldn't do this—not with him, not now. And she got an inkling Rick was feeling the same, too. She remembered how he'd dawdled on the road at the start of their relationship—hadn't even kissed for two weeks, only had kept her around and alive, and Amanda wondered if things were going to be like this now, too—the baby was gone—their baby… She shook her head. She shouldn't think on this, not now, not fucking _now_. And she really didn't want to go back to the house, be under those prying eyes, pitying her, but then again she fucking hated hospitals when she was the patient. It made her feel weak, vulnerable, and she fucking hated feeling vulnerable, too.

The doctor shook her head. "You should stay here at least for another day," she started.

"I'm fine."

"Amanda—" Beth implored, she shook her head.

"I am fine, okay?" she bit off, and wandered her eyes around, "I hate this place," she added with a small voice.

"I know how you feel-" the new doctor started, but Amanda cut her off, snapping her head at her.

"You got kicked by a bastard at your first week of pregnancy and lost your baby?"

The woman gave her a look, "No. I mean—"

Amanda cut her off again, "Then you don't fucking know how I feel!"

"Amanda—" Beth started.

"Leave me alone!" she told them, interrupting her too, "Go. Just leave me the fuck alone!"

"Amanda, you—you could—" Beth said back in response, holding her hand, "You can have another baby—"

She couldn't believe it! With a shriek, Amanda pulled her hand away. "No!" she yelled back, "No! We won't have another baby! I don't want another baby!" Tears suddenly broke, "I want my baby _BACK_!" she shouted, and another spasm hit at her as soon as her voice rose—and she took a sharp breath—pulling her legs towards her stomach again, "Arghh—"

"Amanda-!" Beth ran to her.

Her tears started falling openly, freely as Beth took her in her arms. Amada lifted her head up at Beth, "I—I want my baby back, Beth," she whispered, crying, "I want it back…"

# # #

Rick walked along the wall, making a patrol just to clear off his head. He needed to think. This was so much, just so much. He'd told Deanne he was going to take things into his hands yesterday, and he'd been certain, so certain, but right now he had no idea. A bastard had thrown a kick, and Rick hadn't been there to stop it, and in consequences, his life was turning upside down again—he shook his head.

No. _No_. His priorities had been always clear, not easy but simple. Keep his family safe and alive. That hadn't changed. He assumed he still needed to find Deanne and have a talk—a serious talk with her, too. This was a mess of her as much as that bastard. Deanne had looked like she was aware of that fact last night but that should wait a bit longer. First, he needed to be sure of something.

Turning to the left at the far end of the wall, Rick came to the little cemetery they had secluded at the back of the town and saw what he'd expected but had hoped not to.

No such luck these days. The chief of the construction team, Tobin and a man from his team were digging a grave, Pete Anderson's corpse laying a few feet away from it.

"What are you doing?" Rick asked, approaching to the grave.

"W—we bury him," Tobin answered, giving him a squinted look.

Rick shook his head. "Stop," he ordered firmly, "We don't bury killers inside these walls."

He'd just made his first rule, Rick realized, as the men gave him another look. There was a small silence with them for a second, small but poignant. Tobin ran his eyes away after a second, and asked, "Wh—what are we going to do with him?" His voice was reluctant, but Rick didn't care. The man had listened to him, and that was what mattered.

"Daryl and I will look for that quarry in a few days," he said.

He needed to get his act together. He couldn't keep going on like this. Amanda was going to be fine, the bleeding had stopped. She needed time now. They _both_ needed time, to deal with this. For a moment, he thought he was doing it again… time… he'd thought they would have time—but there was never enough time… _never_. He remembered _his phone call, _the voice in his mind asking him what had happened… a voice he didn't know if it belonged to Lori or Amanda now. He'd been so afraid if he was going to lose her, too, like he'd lost Lori… and what if he'd lost her, too, lost another woman he'd loved before he told her how much he loved her, even when she acted crazy, even when she drove him crazy, even when she started fights out of nothing, never listening to him fully. What would've done if he'd lost her too before he told her what _she_ meant to him, how much he wanted to have this baby with her like she did, how much he'd wanted to put it back together; he wasn't only good for killing—

His eyes caught the sight of the man laying at his feet. No, he wasn't even good for killing. He was too late, too fucking late. He should've dealt with Andrew, but he hadn't, and Lori had suffered for his mistakes. He should've dealt with that bastard as soon he'd realized something was off, no matter what, but he hadn't, and this time his unborn child and Amanda had suffered.

Still, they needed better walls. He was going to make this place safe, that part hadn't changed yet. He'd paid for it—paid with his unborn child's blood. In his mind, Amanda's blood covered legs flashed, and it took everything in him not to take the shovel from Tobin's hands and beat the hell out of the fucking man's already split head. His face turning to stone, he motioned at the body instead, "We'll take him then outside."

The men shared another glance. "Until then?" the other man asked.

Rick shrugged, "He's gonna have to wait. It's not like he's going anywhere."

Tobin gave him a stern look. "It's not right."

Rick returned the look. "We don't bury killers inside these walls," he repeated.

"Do what he says," Deanne's voice cut between them before his back, and Rick turned around, "Put some rocks over his body, and leave him be."

Tobin and his friend nodded at her and started doing what she ordered. Rick tried not to react the way they still listened to her, and she had listened to him, finally, finally listened to him. She gave him a look and motioned at him with a waving hand to follow her.

Wary but still wanting to try it, Rick followed her. Amanda wanted them to find a common ground. He wanted to, if nothing else than to make her feel better, even though he wasn't sure if she could still care. Amanda had wanted this place more than a cave mostly because of their baby's sake. Then as soon as he thought it, another thought came to him… so sudden but fleeting… maybe…maybe, just maybe Carl was right. If…if he could… perhaps they would—try—He stopped the thought. No. They couldn't. Not again.

"I don't want killers buried inside the walls, either, Rick."

He nodded and waited for following but— "But—" and she didn't disappoint, "but we still don't kill people inside these walls."

"I think I just did, Deanne," Rick only said back, "A man who deserved it. A man who killed my unborn child, a man you already should've dealt with it."

Deanne shook her head. "I'm sorry for what happened, Rick, and perhaps you were right, but—Pete—Pete didn't know."

"I _don't_ care."

Deanne nodded, "I know," the woman told her, "and you were right, too. I played down the risks, hoping he'd behave."

"You already had another doctor at your hand, Deanne, how could you let him go this far when you had Denise?"

"Denise is a good woman, but she's a terrible doctor," she said, and shook her head at his incredulous look, "I'm sorry but that's the truth, Rick. You were very lucky that Amanda's condition hadn't worsened last night, but I guarantee you whatever that happened last night, it wasn't because of Denise Cloyd. She didn't save your fiancée."

Rick shook his head back at her. "I can't send men to death on the precognition, Rick."

"He _killed_ my child."

"And I'm truly sorry of that."

Rick gave her a stern look, "And I'm truly sorry that I can't let you go like this."

"I know," she said back, "I remember what you said last night," she continued, "Last night—last night we both were right. That's why I came. Amanda wants us to find a common ground."

Rick's eyes never left hers. "And how do you propose we do that?"

"I don't know," the woman answered, "But we might start with stopping drawing guns at each other with threats."

Solemnly, Rick nodded. It was a start.

* * *

_A/N: "What happened, Rick?" was coming from Rick's phone call I mentioned at the start, and "I couldn't put it back together," and "I thought there'd be time. There's no time."_

_That phone call was great, and an essential part of Rick's character, and I thought any romance for Rick had also to be based on it, so I'm not done yet with it. This chapter isn't finished yet, either, but as I try to move the plot together with miscarriage subplot, I had to split it in two._


	35. Chapter 35

XXXV.

* * *

In the police academy, a single term usually consisted of eight months, twenty two days a month, and six hours a day, which made in total nine twenty hours of training, and an eighty five hours of those times were of self-defense classes, including hand-to-hand combat, arrest techniques and use of baton or tonfa. The follow up courses had another forty-two hours, not mandatory but still frequently followed up by cadets, and Amanda had been always the most careful when it came to her survival.

So feeling unsatisfied with follow up courses and not having much else to do, Amanda used to pass most of her spare time either in the library, studying the books on tactics and strategies, memorizing each word of Sun Tzu or getting her ass wiped off at the gym. As she lay in Beth's bed back at the house, she calculated roughly nine hundred hours spent in the gym during her two years in the academy until her muscles could have mastered each move, until she learned when it was best to attack and best to defense in each situation, until she learned each five different escape scenarios from every possible unlucky situation she might find herself in, and she'd worked on them over and over again until her legs burned, until her arms tore off, until her hands left blood stains, until she didn't leave any inch of skin in her fucking body without bruises, until each move came to her mechanic and yet as natural as breathing, she'd worked over them, and yet, despite of the nine hundred hours, and countless splits, countless sore muscles, countless bruises, countless sleepless nights because it hurt so much, when she'd really needed it, she could NOT have stopped a fucking kick!

She could not do anything right, anything, _not_ a fucking thing. She'd lost Grady, she'd lost Whitney, she'd lost Noah, and now, she'd lost her baby, too. Since the day she'd born, her life had been just one fuck up piling up on the other.

The familiar was anger building in her again, and her days were passing like this too, one moment she was so angry, snapping, biting off anyone who would dare to come close to her—the next she started crying—tears running off her openly—and she was getting really tired of it. Most of times, she just lay down on the bed, pulled the covers over her head—and well, hid in.

She knew she was being ridiculous, and she didn't fucking care, either. The new doctor had mentioned she was suffering a PTSD, but Amanda had stared at her like mad, shaking her head. Of course, she was. She'd had a fucking miscarriage. Hiding in the oom might be pathetic, but she guessed Beth wouldn't have like her trashing her room, either, so she was still being—considerate.

So, yeah, she'd bunked with Beth. Returning to the house as awful as she had dreaded, the looks, the whispers—the pity and wariness—even Michonne was giving her those wary, silent looks, mixed with pity, but that wasn't why she'd ended up at Beth's bed. At first, she had gone to her own room, the room she'd been sharing with Rick and Judith, and as soon as her eyes fell on the baby girl's cot she'd gone through another episode and couldn't have even stopped crying until Beth drugged her into the oblivion. When she had come to she'd been in Beth's bed, and then somehow had stayed there afterward.

It'd passed three days since then, and she had no idea where Daryl was sleeping now, and she knew Carol was taking care of Judith again. Rick came every morning and evening—sometimes even during in the day—gentle, kind—but distant. She supposed they needed to sit down and talk but she just didn't want to—and obviously, Rick didn't want it, either.

No, Rick was busy elsewhere. Deanne had come to her at her second night at the infirmary, too, when she'd been half drugged with painkillers, and told her she was going to sit down with Rick and have a chat. They were putting the guns away. Amanda had just nodded, but the truth of it, she just didn't fucking care. Amanda had never cared for building a better life, never cared leading anything, never cared for anything other than her own skin… for her baby—she—had wanted to change— No, Rick and Deanne could play their power struggles as much as they would like, so long as they kept her the fuck away from it. Amanda was just going to lay down here under the blankets and enjoy the end of the world until the death came to her, too.

At the end of the third day at the house, Amanda realized the end of the world without Rick Grimes was pretty boring. She picked up a small stone from where she sat on the steps with Beth and threw it at the street aimlessly. What it'd been so peaceful with Rick was just boring now—and Amanda knew it shouldn't have bothered her. She liked boring. She'd always wanted her life being simple and boring, just a plain city cop—she _hated_ surprises. Boring meant routines, routines meant patterns, and patterns meant safe zones—so she shouldn't have felt like this—this wasn't her—this wasn't fucking her—

Before she could stop it, she started crying _again_. "Amanda—" Beth started, touching at her arm.

Bringing her hands to her face, Amanda shook her head, "I'm fucking hating this."

"It's hard for Rick, too," Beth told her, and Amanda _wondered_ why exactly Beth had chosen to go with that topic, but she didn't ask, because she wasn't an idiot. She lowered her hands, and gave out a sigh. "When Lori died," Beth continued, "he—he couldn't even hold Judith for a while before he got over it."

Amanda let out another sigh. Rick blamed himself for what had happened much like she did. He'd even told her so at the first night at the infirmary, had tried to tell her it wasn't her fault, and it'd just so angered her.

She shook her head. They were both being idiots. That maniac had kicked her. It wasn't his fault or her fault, and deep down she _knew_ it, too, but she just didn't…feel it. She also knew deep down Rick also didn't feel it so perhaps they really should sit down and talk about it. The thing was that Amanda had noticed something else, too, some fundamental truth about Rick Grimes she hadn't noticed before.

Rick _liked_ talking about feelings as much as she did.

She could see it clearly now, and she was fucking surprised how she could've missed it until now. Whenever they'd ever managed to talk about something in the past, it'd always been _her_ who sought him out.

Rick was a man more of action than words. Even when he'd come to her after their break up taking off his ring he hadn't told her about it until she noticed. She wondered if he would've ever come to find her if he hadn't been so angry after she'd stolen the gun, and he'd come to bite her head off first, then defined—uh— the perimeters but that was hardly being called _sentimental_. She hadn't minded, still didn't mind, either. In fact, she even preferred it, but it just proved her point.

Rick Grimes didn't do talking, not in usual sharing shit ways. He'd just tell you he wasn't doing it halfway, and let you wonder about the rest and then surprise you kissing in public or tying your hands and eyes fucking you senseless, to make you feel it but he didn't _talk_ about it. He'd accepted it wasn't just sex between them with a simple yes and watched her stumble with words as she asked if they should try to find it out. He even told her to marry him—just like that… as if it was enough, no more words were needed than a simple "marry me."

In that moment, Amanda also realized she still had no idea why he wanted to do _this_ with her—why he'd wanted her to have his baby, why he'd wanted to marry her—she thought he loved her, too—a man had to be crazy or in love for wanting to do this in their situation, but Rick wasn't crazy.

No, she knew he loved her. She just couldn't understand why. She knew why _she_ loved him. Rick was—well, Rick was the family she'd never had. She could also see it clearly now. When come to think of it, it wasn't really such a big surprise that she'd fallen in love with a family man, a good _father_, but seriously what was his excuse? He got a thing for emotionally crippled, manipulative, selfish bitches that got _daddy issues_?

It didn't sound right. It just didn't. That wasn't Rick. Family men needed wives, and the life had proved the fact that she couldn't be one over and over again. She moved her hands into her hair, and with a groan, "Argh!" She pulled her hair lightly, "We should've just had sex instead!" and grunted out under her breath.

"What?" Beth asked her, giving her a wary look.

Amanda shook her head, and stood up, "Come on—" she waved her arm at her friend, "let's find Abraham. I need a drink."

# # #

"No!" Rick said, shaking his head, "No, we're not ready yet. We should—"

Deanne cut him off, "It's still my decision, Rick," the old woman said stubbornly.

Rick let out a frustrated sigh. This—this wasn't going anywhere, and he was really getting tired to trying to make Deanne to see his point, and a headache was slowly but decisively climbing over his temples. But he'd given her his word. This was still better than the alternative. They'd stopped drawing guns at each other, yes, but the common ground was still very far away.

He glanced at the windows, and wished Amanda had been here, too. She was much better at this than him, much, much better. She had a way with the stubborn leaders with big ambitions who refused to be...reasonable.

"Aaron and Daryl could go out together," her son, Spencer, supplied, backing up his mother.

His eyes moved to the younger man, and he frowned, the headache settling inside his temples further. The idiot had pulled a gun at him, at _him_. He still looked like he wasn't happy with his mother's decision to talk this thorough peacefully, at least try to talk it, but he was still there with her, Rick was sure, more to cover her back.

Rick didn't mind. It wasn't like that he was going to draw his gun again, he'd given his word, but still, they were going to do what he wanted. Rick _still_ kept his gun, too. "No," he repeated, and motioned with his hand over the drawings that scattered over the table, "We need to deal with walls first. And I got other plans, too." He turned to Reg, "Can you—can you make build a mill for us?"

Surprised, Deanne turned to him, "You want a mill?"

Rick nodded. "After we start growing crops, we need to be ready to turn them into grains," he explained, "Alexandria has to be really self-sustainable."

Impressed, Deanne nodded, and stood up. She walked to the drawer at the corner, and opening the lid, she took a heap of long rolled up papers. She brought them to the table and started unfolded them over the surface. "When we first started the walls, we drew these plans with Reg," she said, carefully running her hand over the papers as if they were sacred, and perhaps in a way for her, they were, "It's the Alexandria we dreamed." She lifted her eyes and gave him a look, "The place where the civilization starts again."

Bowing his head, Rick looked at the plans. There were different sections of the town, and at the plans Alexandria was much bigger than it was now—then Rick understood this was really Deanne's dream—the town she wanted to build. Deanne's hand script was all over the drawings as she had also put down many explanations, thoughts and ideas along the sketches, and Rick saw many houses, a school, a church, another separate hospital, much better roads, and mill. Deanne had wanted to build a mill, too. Lifting his head, Rick pointed at the plans, "We can still do this," he told her.

The old man gave him a smile, nodding. Despite their fundamental difference about morality of civilization, Rick knew Deanne and he still got that common point, they both wanted to make Alexandria a better, a safer place. That would be their common ground.

"Is there a library around here we can go on a supply run?" Rick asked. The thought had been in his mind for a time, since he'd decided that they needed better walls, and a supply run to a library would be very useful to their case.

His eyes suddenly lit, Deanne's husband spoke, "There's something even better," he said, "There's a local Smithsonian History Museum in the downtown."

Rick's eyes lit, too. He didn't have to be a scholar to understand what that meant. A Smithsonian History Museum was just the thing you needed to survive when the industrialized civilization had collapsed. The museum must have devices, appliances, instruments, even sort of vehicles too, stuff people used to need before the age of industry had started, and the Institute always boasted to have the biggest libraries in the world. Rick couldn't wait to see it if the boasting was deserved. "Where?" he asked, leaning over the table.

Deanne, though, shook her head. "The road to there is closed," she said back, "Too many walkers."

Rick looked at Reg, "Show me," he ordered.

The older man took a map and laid it over on the top of the plans too. He pointed the downtown, much closer to D.C. "You don't want us to go look for new recruits, but you'd take people out there?" Deanne questioned.

Rick shook his head. "It's different," he shot back, and pointed at the map, "We need these."

"We need people, too," she said in response, giving him a stern look, "Think what we'd do if we find someone who studied medieval times."

Rick returned her look, "I think you don't send people out there on precognition."

Deanne let out a smile huff, "You know what I mean."

"Yes, and my answer is still no."

"Maybe—uh we should continue on the topic," her husband tried to cut in, and Rick decided to listen to the old man. "I'm gonna take a team and check it after we went to the quarry."

From the other side of the room, Spencer gave out a snort. "And when is gonna be that?"

Rick frowned, his head coming at him again, "Soon."

The younger man gave him a chilling stare, "We got a corpse rotting at our backyard," he hissed.

And Rick could not care less. He couldn't leave. Not yet. He couldn't leave Amanda. She—she was better now, but he still couldn't leave her. They weren't staying in the same room. She hadn't wanted to come back to their room, instead had gone to stay with Beth, and Rick had let her but if he didn't see her at the mornings and nights, didn't see she was all right with his own eyes, he could've lost his mind.

She wasn't—all right exactly either, but at least she was okay. She wasn't bleeding—she was still breathing, and Rick needed to see that with his eyes, too.

He wasn't going anywhere, no.

Deanna turned to him, too, "He's right. We—we need to decide what to do now. It's almost been a week." She gave him another look, "Perhaps we should bury—"

Rick cut her off, "We don't bury killers inside the walls," he seethed his rule again.

Deanne let out a sigh, and asked, "How's Amanda?"

His temples throbbed, his headache getting worsened, and Rick scowled further. "She's fine."

"Denise told me she didn't show up also yesterday," Deanne told him back.

Inwardly, Rick sighed. Deanne had wanted Amanda, Jessie and his boys to see the psychiatrist, and Jessie and her sons had started sessions with the new doctor, but Amanda had refused. All in frankness, Rick had never expected she would've accepted. Amanda had simply told no when Deanne brought the subject and hadn't let anyone mention it again to her. "Denise might be a bad surgeon, but she's a good psychiatrist," Deanne insisted, "Talking to a professional might help her."

Rick felt the anger was getting at him, for what he wasn't sure. "She doesn't want to," he rasped out, his jaw setting in, "I won't force her, either."

The older woman shook her head, "I know," she said, "But I need her here."

"She'll come back when she wants," he said with a finality. He was not going to force her to do anything. In fact, he would even be glad if she kept away from this. He didn't want her to be in stress more than necessary. She—she should lay down and rest, never worry about anything. She still got him. That was at least what he could do for her. He might be useless for anything else, but she still got him to keep her safe.

"You know we'll need her, Rick," Deanne said, though, giving him a look, and then announced, "I want to write down a Constitution."

Rick stared at her, "A what?"

Deanne nodded back at him firmly, and repeated, "A constitution. You can't build civilization without one," the woman said, "without rules."

Rick gave out a grunt, "Yeah," he said back, "I got one rule," he stated, "We don't bury _killers_ inside the walls."

With that, he turned around and left the office. That was one rule he wasn't going to change—not ever again. If you kill someone, if you hurt someone, if you put anyone in jeopardy behind these walls, you die; it was that simple now. Sooner or later, Deanne was going to accept it, too. Or else—

He shook his head and walked back to the house. He'd given his word. A man's word still gotta mean something, even in this world.

The house was empty. Everyone was the most careful around Amanda now, so no one dawdled inside the house during the day but Beth. Rick went upstairs. He'd seen Amanda at the morning, he'd asked her how she was, and she'd said back fine, her voice indifferent and distant, and nodding, Rick had left.

He _knew_—he knew he shouldn't act like this. Even the notion of her staying with another room, sleeping in another bed than his own was rallying something inside him, her place was with him, not the farther corner of a room, not another bed, but his side, his bed. She belonged with him. He knew it. She knew it, too, so why the hell she wasn't with him? Why the hell he was letting her sleep away from him?

He opened the door and saw her sprawled out over the bed, as Beth sat down on the floor, resting her back at the bed, an empty bottle of scotch over her lap. Standing still at the threshold, Rick looked at the scene. Her right man was loosely draped over the edge of the bed as she lay on her stomach, her fingers barely touching at the floor. She looked like she'd passed out as Beth looked tired. His eyes moved from the empty bottle toward the younger woman.

"Where did she find it?"

Beth shrugged, "Uh—Abraham."

Rick decided to have a serious talk with the former soldier. This—this was… madness. His eyes skipped to her over the bed. He shook his head. What if an attack happened, what if the place overran by the walkers and he lost her because she'd gotten her ass drunk off? He wanted to shake her off senseless, he wanted to yell at her, he wanted to—he wanted to—Letting out a grunt, he shook his head. He didn't know what he wanted to, not anymore.

Beth looked at him, her eyes were tired too, but this time there was no softness inside them. "You gotta do something," the young woman told him and gestured with her head at the bed, "She can't go on like this."

And Rick already knew it.

He climbed down the stairs and went outside to the porch. Outside, he sat down at the steps. Daryl came to his side a couple of minutes later. Daryl was taking this hard, Rick was aware, too. He was sorry his own part, he was sorry for his little friend, and he was confiscated inside the town, not a good combination for Daryl Dixon.

"I saw Sam today," Daryl started, "He ain't eat—he ain't talk," Daryl said, and Rick felt—disturbed. He wasn't sorry he'd killed the bastard, not after what he'd done, but he was sorry Sam and his brother had to live through this. Spencer was right. There was a corpse rotting out at their backyard, covered with stones or not, the bastard's sons were seeing it every day.

"We gotta do something," Daryl concluded.

Stiffly, Rick nodded. He had to do a lot of things, a _lot_ of things. And he gotta start somewhere, too, he realized.

"Take him out," he told then Daryl, "We need to check out the quarry, see how things are out there. Go to there, and get rid of him, too."

Without a further word, Daryl nodded, standing up, but before he left, he put a hand at his shoulder, and nodded at him.

In silence, Rick nodded back. Alone, Rick looked at the deserted streets. Beth was right. She could not go on like this, he could not go om like this. _This_ could not go on like this.

# # #

"I need you back," Deanne told her at the night after she'd come around, took a shower, and started feeling a bit more like a human again. God, she was stupid, passing out like that—but well, she deserved a bit stupid, too, again, she guessed. And like everyone kept telling her, she got PTSD.

Turning her back to the older woman, Amanda started to brush her wet hair. "I need you back," Deanne continued. She'd hoped the dismissive gesture could have enough answer for the older woman, but obviously she wasn't lucky tonight.

Beth also had told her—rather pointedly that Rick had caught her too again, passed out on the bed, so, she might—be ready for him, too, but Amanda didn't know. She knew he must've gone out of his mind seeing her like that, but coming to her for a confrontation, she just didn't know. She wasn't sure anymore. But it'd been any other time, Amanda would've felt the anticipation of it—wondering if she would've pushed him, even before she could realize it, but she had become tired of it, as well.

So, she just kept brushing her hair. "No," she told the older woman, "I'm done with that, Deanne."

From the mirror in front of her, she saw Deanne shaking her head. "We can't do this without you, Amanda," she said, "You—you're a bridge between us. I can't find a common ground with Rick if you aren't there, you know it."

Yes, she did, but she just didn't care. She was done with that, too. "I'm trying to write down a constitution," the woman then informed her.

Her hand stopped at her hair, and startled, she gave Deanne a look in the mirror. "What?"

"We need to define the rules, set the lines," Deane explained, "What happened—" she shook her head again, "We can't tolerate it happen again. Law is the heart of the civilization, we can't have a civilization without a well-defined, well-practiced justice system."

Setting the brush down, Amanda shook her head. Some people just couldn't get it, just couldn't understand the world they lived in. "There is no justice now, Deanne," she said, "And there is no civilization, too." She turned on her stool and looked at the woman directly in the eyes. "You want my help?" she asked, "Very well then, I already told you, but I'll say it again: _Do_ whatever Rick says."

Deanne still shook her head. "It doesn't work that way."

She let out a bitter laugh. "Really?" she asked back, tilting her head aside with a mocking smile, "Do you really think Rick plays nice with you because he _has to_?" She let out a laugh, "Get your facts straight. The only reason why we have this conversation is because Rick lets you."

"History is full of men who thought power is enough to make one a ruler," Deanne shot back.

There the old woman had a point, too again. Brute force had never made anyone neither a good ruler nor it made a long ruling. History was also full of leaders whose throats were slit at the least expected moments. It only took a second, only a second—and despite all your preparations, despite all your training, you couldn't stop it. _She_ couldn't stop it. She couldn't have stopped the kick that had ripped off her baby out of her.

Fear—the familiar fear caught her again, and she recalled Maggie—no, she'd lost her baby, she couldn't have lost Rick, either. It was a small chance, but Amanda couldn't take any chances. Not anymore.

She lifted her eyes at Deanne, "Okay," she said then, "I—I'll come tomorrow."

_# # #_

"Have you ever heard of irresistible force paradox?" Amanda asked them the next morning.

They were alone in Deanne's office. She and Rick were seated across Deanne who sat behind her desk. "It tries to answer what happens when an unstoppable force meets with an immoveable object," she told them, "When I face with a dilemma, I always get my facts straight. So let's get our facts straight, here. Deanne—" She looked at the woman, "Here is your fact. You don't have enough power to stop Rick. If he wants to take this place, he takes it. You can't _stop_ him. He's unstoppable." She then turned to Rick, "And you Rick, you don't want to be that man, but the only way to have all your ways is to _be_ that man. If you follow that path, you're gonna end up being the man you don't want to; a tyrant. Because Deanne is immoveable. She's a believer. She believes in her own convictions. So that's your paradox. What happens when an unstoppable force meets an immoveable object?" she asked them again.

They both looked at her. Amanda shook her head, letting out a sigh. "They both surrender or ruin each other." She stood up, "So _surrender_," she hissed at them, "find a damn common ground before you ruin yourselves, taking us down along in the meanwhile."

With that, she walked to the door and left them alone.

_# # #_

Rick found her before the noon, coming directly from Deanne's office. He hadn't known if they'd managed to find a common ground, but Deanne had let him take all the decisions regarding the security and perseverance of their community, and Rick had let her take all the decisions regarding making this safe haven more than a protected cave, and Amanda had left the house and had come to talk to them, so it'd been a start, a real one.

Here—he was ready to take the next one. This would _not_ go on like this.

Amanda was still Beth's room. "That—" he said, walking to in the room, "That was an interesting motivation talk."

She lifted her head from the bed where she sat her back rested along the bed's headrest, "Did it work?" she asked back.

Rick shrugged. "She let me take all the decisions regarding the security," he explained, "No intrusion."

She nodded. "Well, congratulations then."

Rick sat at the bed next to her, and rested his back at the headrest, too, his feet still dangling at the floor. Then letting out a sigh, he brought his hand into his pocket, and fished out the ring he'd found for her. "I found your ring—" he started, holding it between his fingers and extended his hand toward her, "It's not of diamonds, but it's still rose gold."

In silence, she looked at his hand, but didn't move. This couldn't go on like this. She had to come back. She had to come back to her own room, to her own bed, to _him_, where she belonged. She belonged with him.

But letting out a sigh, too, Amanda shook her head. "Rick—"

He cut her off, "Amanda, this's enough," he told her, waving his hand around the room, "you have to come back now. _This_ isn't your life."

This time instead of a sigh, she let out a small laugh, "and _that_ is?" she asked back, pointing the ring with her head, "You really still want to marry me?"

Dropping his hand at his side, he frowned, "I _didn't_ ask you to marry me because you're pregnant," he answered, a frustration edging at his tone, he always hated to hear this from everyone, questioning his decisions—his…wishes, but from her the inquiry was even worse. They—they'd wanted to do it.

Amanda gave him a look, her eyes keen and searching, "Why?" she asked then with a clear voice, _inquiring_, "Why do you want to marry me?"

Rick held her eyes, "I thought you already knew it," he answered simply, but Amanda shook her head again.

"No," she said back, "No, I don't."

"Because I love you," he told her then.

"I know that, Rick," she said with exasperation, "I'm _not_ an idiot. But why?" she asked again, "Why do you love me? _That's_ what I don't know."

In silence, he stared at her. Why did he love her? He'd never asked himself that question, he just knew it, felt it. Why anyone would love someone anyway? He'd loved Lori, too, he'd just _known_ it. They met, fell in love, and got married.

Shaking her head again, Amanda pushed herself over the bed, and got up.

She began packing in the room. "I know why Daryl loves Beth, and I know why Beth loves him too," she started talking as Rick continued to stare at her, "And I know why _I_ love you," she said with letting another breath out, "Daryl loves Beth because she's only good in his life, his light or something like that, Beth loves him because she _is_ Beth, and I love you because—" Her eyes fell on him, and she stopped pacing, "And I love you because—" she repeated, "Because you're the family I've never had," she confessed.

"Every time I used to see you with Judith," she went on, "something inside me was crying, Rick. The first time I patted Judith, my first thought was…how lucky she was having a father like you—and I wondered—" she let out a deep breath, "I wondered how it would've felt like having a father like you." She shook her head, "I wanted to have a child, Rick, your child—a piece of you inside me. I wanted us to be a family—"

His eyes were burning—again—He wanted to take her in his arms and never let her go. They were a family, _she_ was his family. He stood up and walked to her, "Amanda, we still can be—"

Again, she shook her head, "But I don't understand, Rick. Why do you want to be with _me_? Since the time I got back to the house, I've been thinking on it. We somehow fell in love with each other, and consequently lost all the sense in the world—but I got issues, Daryl got issues, Beth is what she is, but what's your excuse, Rick?" she asked, her eyes boring into his, curious and searching, "Are you in a damn mid-life crisis or you got a thing for emotionally crippled, manipulative, selfish bitches who got daddy issues?" She barked out a laugh, "What happened, Rick?"

With her last words, his head snapped at her—and he stared at her… _What happened, Rick? _echoed in his mind— "Amanda—" he started, trying to catch her arm but she pulled back.

"No!" she cried out, "No! You're gonna tell me something!" she said back, "I don't know anything, not a damn of what you think, and I'm getting bored of it! You just say yes, or just say you don't do it half way, then you show up taking off your ring—or show up with _another_ ring!" She gestured wildly with her hands, "It's driving me crazy!" she cried out again, "_Why_ do you want to be with me? Am I just your type? Do I look like your old wife—or—"

He flinched and Amanda stopped in mid-sentence—a silence befalling on them.

Rick swore inwardly as she suddenly threw her head backward, and started laughing out loud. "Oh—oh, I'll be damned!" she swore between laughs and lifted her head to look at him. "Do I look like your old wife, don't I?" A mocking entered into her voice as she regarded him, smiling, "Even Carl has the same look. Green eyes—light complexion, soft auburn hair—" Mocking turned into a hiss, and she seethed out, "I _should've _known."

Rick tried to touch her again. This-this was going so wrong, so wrong. "Amanda!"

"No, seriously—" she went on, ignoring him, "You see, I was wondering… But you got me there for a moment, you _really_ did, Rick." Her tone was disgusted now, "I have to say, it doesn't happen to me frequently. I guess it was really my _feelings_ that blinded me to see what's in front of me." She laughed again, "But be fair to me, it's the first time I've ever fallen in love."

"Amanda—"

She laughed even further, derisive and mocking, cutting—curt and cold at the same time. "So I was the lucky one, huh?" she asked, "Your wife died and you decided to have another one , the family _you_ couldn't get—and am I what, a replacement? Compensating your loses?" She tilted her head aside, curious, "Was it like that, Rick? Lori died, fuck it, let's get the next girl who looks like her knocked up?"

His jaw twitched. "You asked—you _begged_ me for the baby," he told her back, his eyes turning colder, "People living in the glass houses shouldn't throw out stones, Amanda, never heard of it? You just told me _I'm _the family you've never had."

She barked out another laugh. "We make _such_ a couple, right?" she asked acerbic, "Me—trying to have the _daddy_ I never got, and you—trying to replace the wife you lost—"

"Amanda, stop—" he warned her, his tone getting a tone sharper, darker, too. They were getting into the dangerous waters. And it wasn't right. This wasn't right. He loved her. He _loved_ her.

Ignoring him again, though, she took a step a forward, getting closer to him, and _smiled_, and he knew even before she opened her mouth she was going for the killing shot, her claws pulled out—quills were all out. "But tell me," she demanded, her lips carved out a sinister smile, "Who's exactly your best friend? I can't decide. I'd say Daryl but you got pretty wired up when you thought Glenn died. Tell me, who's the lucky guy I need to fuck at your back?" She paused, pursing her lips, "I really hope it isn't Daryl," she remarked, almost thoughtfully, "You know Beth is like a sister to me."

His anger snapping, he caught her at the upper arms and pushed her back at the wall. "Stop it."

She smiled even further. "I'm just getting my facts straight, sweetheart," she stated coldly, "Am I not replacing your dead wife?"

"Amanda, _stop,_" he warned her the last time.

"Or _WHAT_?" she snapped back, her voice rising but tears welled inside her eyes, too, "You'd do what?" she asked, lowering her tone but there was a challenge still in her words despite her watery eyes, "Strangle me? Bite me? Tie my hands and eyes and fuck me at my ass?"

Giving out a sharp breath, Rick closed his eyes, dropping off his hands. "Amanda—" he rasped out.

"You're cunning man, Rick Grimes," she said back, and when Rick opened his eyes he saw tears running over her cheeks, "You got the wife and the mistress at the same time—killed two birds with one stone."

He shook his head. What she'd said—accused, it sounded true, but it wasn't. Amanda looked like Lori, yes, he'd already noticed it but she wasn't Lori. He wanted to put it back together, he wanted to have this with her, but it wasn't because she looked like Lori… no… it wasn't… "It isn't like that, Amanda," he started, but she cut him off again.

"How is it then, Rick?" she asked back, her voice getting frustrated again, "Because from where I stand, it looks exactly like _that_!"

"Will _you_ listen to me?" he sneered, getting angered, too, and he was tired of her accusations, so tired of them, and he'd warned her before. "You tell me I don't talk to you, but you don't even let me when I try," he snapped. And he was trying—he was trying, trying his damn best—god, he hated this—he hated—but he'd already lost Lori once—and he couldn't have even told her-

Rick blinked. God, perhaps—perhaps Amanda was _right_. He always compared her to Lori—but he was trying. He was trying not to make the same mistakes again. He wasn't—he wasn't trying to replace her with Lori... he wasn't… _God!_

Shaking her head, Amanda started walking away as if she understood what he'd just thought. He caught her before she could get away. "Amanda—" he called her out, softening his voice a tone down. They had to find a common ground, this—this couldn't end like this, but before he could continue, Daryl suddenly walked into the room—

And stopped at his feet as soon as he saw them—"Daryl—" Rick said, "This isn't a good time."

The other man shook his head, almost agitated. "I went to the quarry," he said in response, "You gotta see this."

Something in his tone made him frown. This—this was the worst time— "What?" Rick asked back.

"Trouble," Daryl answered, "The worst kind, man." He gave them a look, "You gotta see this," Daryl repeated, "At the quarry—there's a massive herd."

Inwardly, Rick swore. He was fucking hating this.

* * *

_A/N: All right, finally, we have Rick and Amanda lay all the issues out-of course, it hasn't finished yet, as you know, this is Walking Dead, and there is always shit happening :)_

_When I started building their romance, I asked myself how Rick would have fallen in love in a short period time in his state of mind in Season 5-and then I noticed how much the actress played Amanda looks like like the actress played Lori, too, and I got an epiphany, and it just built itself around it. I like romance in my stories as realistic and dysfunctional as possible, heh, so I wanted to play with the idea further. Rick is just the man for that, as he doesn't do healthy communication, Amanda isn't any better, either. :)_


	36. Chapter 36

XXXVI.

* * *

Back in the days there was this kind old social worker who used to come to visit them on the foster homes for a while, and the lady had always used to tell them some verse from Bible for every situation, but the old woman's favorite had always been; _whoever seeks good finds favor, but evil comes to one who searches for it. _

Listening to what Daryl had found at the quarry, Amanda thought how ironic it was, because they had looked for trouble and had found it, but it was still a blessing.

From her perch at the windowsill where she sat with Beth, Amanda threw a look outside. There was a gloom now in the air, the evening was nearing. Rick and Daryl had left three hours ago. Amanda had already realized it was even worse than what Daryl had briefly explained, and now they were explaining it fully… an army of walkers herded up in a bowel. It _was_ a blessing that they'd found it. All the time they'd been here, this was how close they'd truly been to the danger, and how fucking clueless they had been. Amanda briefly touched her stomach with her fingertips.

This was what her baby had missed out, what it'd been _spared_ off, and for a moment—for a moment Amanda couldn't help but feel a bit of relief—and it made her feel even worse, if it was possible, but it was still there. Maybe—maybe it was really for the best. She was sorry her baby couldn't have made it—couldn't have gotten a life, she'd so much wanted it, but to truth be told, if her baby had come to the world, that was what would've greeted it.

A world full of walking corpses that wanted to eat them limb by limb, a world of misery where you could never be safe, and parents who had wanted brought you into this shithole only to fulfill their shits. Maybe…maybe it was really a blessing.

But it all made sense now. She'd finally understood, finally figured out _what_ had been going on between them, and there was that relief in her again, like—like she had finally solved a mystery, like she'd finally found the missing piece of a puzzle and everything clinked in.

Her eyes skipped at Rick who was standing up at the other side of the corner from her, close to Deanne, a grim experience over his face, and Amanda wondered if he'd been also thinking of his dead wife, dreaming of the woman while he'd fucked _her_ as she lost herself to him with all she had. Her eyes watered again, and her hand fisted… she wanted to hit something. She wanted to break something. Everything. She felt broken—like—like inside her something was shattered—fractured, and every piece was cutting her now—and she was—she was bloody angry, too! She should've known!

She _so_ should've known it! How she could be this stupid! This…naïve…thinking a man like Rick would've loved her for being _who_ she was. But she had always known it, too, hadn't she? She was even more of a band-aid than what she had assumed of.

"There was a camp at the bottom. They must have blocked the exits with one of their trucks back when everything started to go bad," The head of the Alexandria's other supply runner group said as if an explanation. They'd come back this morning, Amanda had seen them at the gates, this must've been the suckiest welcome back home surprise gift had anyone ever to be given.

As soon as they'd returned, Rick had demanded everyone in the city gathered at the Deann's house, so here they were, all sitting in the living room, listening… and worrying… and fearing… It never ended… It just _never_ did.

"And no one checked it again?" Amanda asked tersely from her windowsill where she perched her back at the corner, one leg dangling over the floor, a great deal away from Rick.

Hearing her talking, though, his eyes trailed at her, like the rest of the room, but Amanda kept hers dutifully on the other man.

"Every town worth scavenging are all in the other direction, toward D.C," the younger man answered, "And I never really felt like having a picnic next to the camp that ate itself."

Amanda nodded. Even Rick had been planning on supply runs closer to D.C.

Rick walked into the middle of the room. "So all the while the walkers have been drawn by the sound," he summarized the situation and told them their dilemma, "and they're making more sound and they're drawing more in—" His eyes wandered around the room among the town's residents, weighting them up and down, "And here we are."

And here they were…fucked up and deep in shit.

She barely contained a bitter scoff inside. To think she had thought she would get a family, a baby—get to live. Such a naivety. She wanted to slap herself.

"We're going to lead them away," Rick stated then, his voice as stern as his eyes, full of certainty. A finality.

But they all stared at him. "Can—we—how can we do it?" a man from construction crew, the man had once gotten into a fight with Abraham asked, Amanda tried to recall his name, Carton—or Carter, or something, there were still a lot of Alexandrian people she didn't know. Obviously, she needed to get her shit together, levelled up her game. She couldn't go on like this now, depend on Rick any longer.

Rick nodded, "Yeah, we're gonna round them up and herd them—like police at a parade," he explained, and Amanda frowned. That might work on a smaller herd, but the herd they talked about sounded like an army… There would be so much distractions, diversions for a thing like that work on such a big scale.

"I know it sounds risky," Rick continued as if he'd heard what she had thought, "but walkers are already slipping through the exits," he went on, "One of the trucks keeping the walkers in could go off the edge any day now. Maybe tomorrow maybe after one more hard rain. That exit sends them east. All of them. Right at us." He levelled at them another look, "This isn't about if it gives, it's _when_," he said pointedly, bobbing his head too for an extra measure, "It's gonna happen," he said sternly, then his eyes skipped to her, "Consider yourself lucky Amanda wanted us to check the quarry." He paused, "We found it before it's happened. This's a _blessing_."

Their eyes caught at each other, and they shared a glance—and it took everything in her not to burst into tears… Why—_why_? Even they thought alike—acted alike…having the same fears and distrust… same hands covered with blood… But they were trying, fighting with teeth and nails…and every day was a new day, so they got up and fought…. She remembered the barn, remembered how he'd kissed her—telling her they should've stopped even when opening her pants… All the things they'd shared—the way he'd looked at her—raising her tied hands above her head, giving her what she'd wanted—all of this… all of those amazing moment… just because she looked like his old wife! Just because he wanted to get the life he couldn't have had with her. And that was Amanda was—what she had _always_ been; a substitution for the all things he'd lost, nothing _more_.

_You could be more._

God, she was such an idiot.

"Maybe there is another way," the man from construction crew opposed, shaking his head, bringing Amanda back to the real world. "I mean, we just couldn't build up the weak spots at the walls?" His eyes searched for Reg, and asked him, "We can try to make it safe, right?"

But in answer, Rick shook his head before the older man could speak, "The sounds of those walkers make draws more and more every day. Walkers herd up," he told them, "Building up the exits won't change that. We need to deal with them."

Deanna then spoke too; "We'll do what Rick says," the older woman said.

And it _really_ looked like they'd found their common ground. It seemed that the chances that Daryl and Aaron would go out and find another community had gone below zero. Amanda didn't know how it felt; looking for others were a risk, but it was becoming very clear to her again that staying in the same house after they'd blown things up was going to be problematic. Even more than before. She wasn't even sure that going to another house and pretend like he didn't exist would work now. She should stop kidding herself now. If she stayed and saw Rick every day, she would've never finished this. _Never_. And she had to finish this, right? She couldn't go on like this, they couldn't go on like this.

"We're gonna have Daryl leading them away on a bike," Rick started explaining his plan further, "Aaron says they have a bike?" He turned to the other man. Aaron nodded. "All right," Rick continued, "We'll have two teams one on each side of the forest helping manage this thing, they'll help to keep the walkers on the road, not going astray in the woods. We're gonna have a few people on watch from now on. Rosita, Spencer, and Holly. So they're out." His eyes wandered around the room, this time purposefully avoiding her, and Amanda knew the reason, too, "So who's in?" he asked then.

She almost rolled her eyes and frowned as soon as Michonne raised her hand.

_Of course._

She wondered if that was the reason why Rick hadn't acted on with Michonne… Michonne didn't really look like Lori. She snickered bitter inside. No, _she_ was the lucky one. Then, next to her, Beth raised her hand, too. "I'll drive next to Daryl. He can't be alone."

Daryl's head snapped up, and he gave Beth a look, and expectedly said, "No."

"_Yes_," Beth stressed out, "I can do it."

Amanda sensed another no following from Daryl, so she quickly jumped in before Daryl could respond. Beth hated left behind, and Amanda understood it, and she also knew if she stayed behind too without nothing but _thinking_ she might lose her mind—she needed action. "I go with her," so she said, "We take a car and ride next to him."

As soon as the words spoke out, Rick's head snapped up at her, too, and his answer _expectedly_ wasn't any different than Daryl's either, "No. You stay in."

Amanda shook her head. "I'm fine." She was fine. Sometimes it still hurt, a slight pain at her groin but it was no longer was like a spasm that cut inside her. She'd seen a light spot of redness in her underwear two days ago but since then bleeding also had stopped. She was fine. Moreover, she was still a damn cop! They needed her out there. "Daryl can't do this alone," she went on, "We'll keep them coming, Daryl will keep them from getting sloppy as you deal with the rest at the banks of the road."

Rick took a few steps toward her from the other side of the room, and leaned down, "Amanda, you're just—"

"I'm fine," she repeated, cutting him off, and seriously were they having this conversation now? She turned to Abraham before Rick spoke again, "Abraham could come, too." She looked at the ex-military muscles and the man nodded. "Yeah, it's a long way to be alone."

Rick tossed at a glance at Abraham, his face souring, but returning to her he only said, "We'll talk it later—" she opened her mouth but he beat her to it, "Who else?" he asked, turning away from her, "We need more."

The man from the construction crew shook his head. "There's got to be another way," the man said, "We can't just control that many."

Well, that was the whole point of this, really, but the man had still a point. This wasn't going to be a picnic. But if this wouldn't work, and it had a good percentage that it wouldn't—they should have a contingency plan. They couldn't do such a big thing without a plan B, hell even without preparing a Plan C and D, and the rest of the whole alphabet. But that was going to have to wait. The people of Alexandria didn't need to hear of those possibilities now. They needed to hear that it would work. People most of times just needed to hear it was going to be okay, everything was going to be okay. This was one of those times, too. So Amanda kept her silence, but already started inwardly a risk analysis—what could have gone wrong…what they would do if it did—

"I said it before," Rick told the man, "walkers herd up. They'll follow a path if something's drawing them."

"So, what? We're supposed to just take your word for it?" Well, that was kinda a stupid question, given that Rick had been out there since the beginning, but the man had always been inside the walls, safe and secure, but Amanda still read what the words really meant beneath. She caught then him sharing a look with Spencer, "We're all supposed to just fall in line behind you now?" the man then asked openly.

Deanne spoke before no one else could, "Rick and I have come to an agreement. From now on, all decisions regarding the safety of this community will be his call," she informed the townspeople, "We'll do what he says—" Her eyes bore through him, "And he'll keep us safe."

Rick shook his head at the older woman and turned at them, too, "_We'll_ keep us safe. We'll make this work. We'll keep this place up. Keep our families safe." His eyes briefly touched hers again, "We _will_."

There was a sudden silence in the room again as everyone looked at him after his words. Amanda knew he was trying, trying his best to be the leader he wanted to be, but before anyone did something, Jessie's older son stood up— "And what if we make a _mistake_?" the boy asked, sending a heated glare at Rick, "Will you kill us, too?" and asked again before he stormed out of the room.

Jessie jumped on her feet after him, giving an apologetic look around the room, shaking her head. "I—I'm sorry," she murmured, jogging after her son. Amanda felt her eyes watering again, and jumping down, she left the room, too.

# # #

"Marshall and Redding," Rick said, pointing the intersection of the two roads at the map over the table later in the day when they had finally left alone in Deanne's study and started working on the plan.

His nerves were so tensed, his muscles so strained, Rick felt he could split in two. Today was definitely going to be one of _those_ days. It'd started with that damn fight with Amanda, gotten worsened after he'd left with Daryl and saw what had happened at the quarry, how Alexandria had survived this long without troubles. He'd been wondering about that, and now he got his answer. It'd been nothing but a miracle of sorts, and he'd been telling truth; they were damn lucky that Amanda had made them check the quarry looking for stones. Even the thought of those herd coming up at them unawares was enough to send down shivers through his spine—and Jessie's older boy had just added the cherry at the top—no, today was definitely going to be one of those days. _What if we make a mistake?_

He _hadn't _killed Pete Anderson because the man had made a mistake! No, Rick had killed him because the man had lost control, beat his children and wife, and had caused the death of his unborn child, knowing or unknowing it didn't matter, because if Rick let him live, he could've only grown worse. He'd _deserved_ it. No one could convince him otherwise. The man had been a bad father, abusive and vile but Ron was still his son.

We gave himself a slight head shake, recalling how he carried Amanda to the infirmary bleeding in his arms, how much she had cried—how much she had screamed— how their relationship was strained now because of the loss of their child… No. Rick wasn't remorseful. The bastard had deserved it, but still seeing the young boy made him—feel prickled.

Inwardly, he pushed the thought away. Ron—Jessie—Sam—they all were going to have to accept this was the world they lived in now. Rick was going to do it. He wasn't going to lose Alexandria. He still had a promise to keep. He tapped at the intersection with his finger, "We force them west here."

"How?" Deanne asked, looking at the map.

"We block it off so they can only go one way, west, away from the community," Rick explained, blocking the east part of the crossroad to show them his point with his fingertip. They were reduced into the numbers now, a small group of heads discussing the plan. After the show-off with Ron, following Amanda, the townspeople had left too.

Amanda… his thoughts briefly wandered away again toward her. He should find and talk to her. They had to finish that damn talk she'd started, and she had to stay back in until this all got resolved, she had had a miscarriage a few days ago, for Christ's sake! She had no place driving a car herding up an army of dead. She was driving him crazy. He loved her, she knew it. Was it really that important how it happened? Why it happened? They lived in a crazy, insane world, was it too much to ask just to have it? Hold her in his arms, make love to her? Feel it—the peace. Despite all things happened, that night, while they just had laid down between each other's embrace was the most peaceful moment Rick had felt for a long time, and he wanted that! Dammit, he wanted to hold her—burry his head at her shoulder, breath her scent in—good and bad altogether, he wanted to burry himself in her…

It was there—that thing between them, it'd always been there…since the time she'd called him out at his back, her gun at her hand, and told him she'd saved some people, too, it'd been there. Why she was constantly fighting with it? He supposed she'd probably never felt it before—never felt being loved—but she had to stop now, stop questioning it but believe it, believe him. He wanted her to believe in him, believe _them_.

"Block it off with what?" Tobin's assistant from the construction crew, Carter, asked, pulling him back to from his thoughts, "Cars?"

There was still an underlined unease in his words, and Rick knew the man _believed_ in him as much as Ron did. "We'll use the RVs, some of the bigger trucks," Rick explained the same, "park them end to end. They're gonna keep moving."

"Yeah, but that many?" the man asked. "Just bouncing off some sedans? And then when they start slipping through and the ones that walk away start distracting the rest and you stop drawing them away?"

"Man's got a point," Daryl said.

"We still got plates," Reg cut in, "The big metal ones from the construction site. We can use them to fortify the whip wall. It'd help disperse the force of impact and direct the walkers clean."

"That's an army out there," Carter countered, "What happens if this doesn't hold and they push on through?" he asked, but continued before waiting an answer, "The curve in this hillside is gonna send them right back east. Right back here." He pointed Alexandria with his finger just like Rick did.

Frowning, Rick shook his head. "If we _don't_ do this, they're still gonna end up here," he said in return. It was all the same. Here at least they had a chance. They had to try it. He gave the skeptic man a look, "It's gonna hold," he said sternly, "We're gonna make sure of it."

He was going to make sure of it. He turned to Reg, "How long would it take to close the road?"

"Give or take a week," the older man answered, "We need to dig ditches and gotta do a lot of welding."

Rick shook his head. "Too long," he said, "We might not have a week."

Reg gave him a look. "We'll try our best."

"Two days," Rick said then, and pointed at Daryl with his head, "Go and tell everyone. We start tomorrow morning."

Daryl nodded, and left. Rick then turned to Glenn. "We need to check the road, too. Twenty miles… we need to keep it quiet. If there's something on the road that might distract the herd, we're doomed."

Glenn nodded. "I'll round up a team and check the road."

Rick nodded, then they left, himself Reg, Tobin, and Carter to look for the plates. The warehouse was at the backyard of the town across the cemetery, so they walked around the town, also checking the wall for the weak points. In any case, they needed to forfeit the walls as best as they could, in case that they fucked it up. Inside the warehouse, they counted twelve plates ten feet tall stored, four inches thick, and square profiles to weld them together. Rick told them to get ready for tomorrow too, and left them as they started gathering the tools and other equipment.

He needed to find Amanda. This couldn't go on like this, that part—even with that herd out there hadn't changed yet. He needed to find her and settle this thing down. She needed to stop fighting with it. She needed to come back—return her own room, her own life, and stay there, too, dammit! She had no place outside there—not just after he'd rushed her to the infirmary bleeding a few days ago.

But before he needed to do something else, too.

He found Abraham gathering the construction crew together with other residences as he had demanded, but Daryl wasn't with him. He'd hoped Amanda was with them, too, but perhaps this way was much better. Standing a few feet away from the massive man, Rick gestured Abraham with his head. With a tight brow, the ex-sergeant walked to him. "Hey man, we're almost good to go," he said, stopping in front of him, "These monkeys gonna love this."

Rick shook his head. He had no desires of talking about that now. The townspeople were going to do this, whether they liked it or not, they needed all hands on the deck now. If they wanted to live, they were going to fight for it. "You should stop giving booze to Amanda," he told Abraham stiffly.

The smirk wiped off the redheaded man's face as he regarded Rick calmly. "She's a big girl, she can decide what she wants herself."

Rick shook his head again, "I don't want to see her with alcohol again," he only said firmly.

Abraham's eyes turned heavier, and Rick cursed the day he'd teamed up them together, sending them into the woods looking for the Wolves back on the road. She'd been again driving him crazy, refusing to knowledge the thing between again—calling it just sex—telling him constantly how much she hated him…first he'd been amused, then amusement had grown off. Still, if he knew they would've been best buddies, he would've sent her off with Daryl instead.

He wasn't jealous—not really—funny enough he trusted Amanda not to betray him that way—but he still didn't like her seeing with the guy. They both had the same devil-may-care attitude with a cold, harsh exterior they presented to the world, had the same dry savviness and it bothered him seeing them having something in common when Rick was always at cross with her.

He wondered then if it was what she felt seeing him together with Michonne, but Rick _wasn't_ throwing fits unlike her.

Abraham shrugged, "She looked like she needed a drink."

Rick got closer to the man, "I found her passed out at the bed," Rick said in return, bobbing his head to make his point, "What would happen if we didn't see that herd by chance and they ended up here yesterday and she was out of conscious?" He shook his head, "This ends now."

Abraham gave him a look. "Have you talked this with her?"

"Yeah…"

"Okay," the ex-soldier said then, "Will—you let her drive with Daryl?" he questioned further, giving Rick another look.

"She stays," Rick answered, ignoring the look Abraham sending him, "she's not well enough."

"She's a cop, all locked and loaded."

"She's got a miscarriage," Rick returned, "We need someone back in, too."

"Well," Abraham said then, "You gotta convince her because it's just snafu!"

Rick nodded. That he was going to. "Where is she? Did you see her?"

"She went to see Aaron's bike with Daryl and Beth," Abraham answered, "They're Aaron's garage."

Nodding again, Rick left the ex-soldier with construction crew. Aaron's boyfriend, Eric, opened the door for him. He asked the man for Amanda, and Eric pointed with his head at the back—Rick assumed the garage. Outside the house, Rick walked to the garage. Inside the room was a mess, pieces of mechanics, motors and bikes were all scattered around. Daryl was knelt in front of a bike, checking the motor, as Beth, Amanda and Aaron had seated along the workbench in the middle of the spacious room, fiddling with many nuts, blots, screws, pieces of motors laying around. Over the workbench, there were tools and a big motor comportment too, and Rick thought Daryl had found himself a new Disneyland.

As if he'd heard Rick, Daryl lifted his head from the motor he was tinkering with it, and gave him almost a smirk, "Man, you gotta see this—"

Rick turned to Aaron. "Did you build this yourself?" he asked.

Aaron shook his head. "No… Eric and I were just collecting pieces—like plates. We were hoping someday we would someone who would put it back together." His eyes skipped to Daryl, "I guess we did."

Rick nodded. "Yeah…" He paused then and turned to Amanda. They both shared a silent look, but didn't acknowledge each other. Beth jumped down from the stool she perched upon, "We—we need to check other…stuff," she told them, and motioned Daryl and Aaron, "Come on."

Rick nodded at her. Daryl gave him a quick look before he followed Beth and Aaron, too. Amanda turned away from him and picked up a bolt from the workbench, and started studying it as if it was the most curious thing in the world.

She put it down as Rick rested his hip along the workbench's edge, "Stop looking at me," she said then chillingly, her eyes still trained on the bolt.

"Amanda," Rick started then, but she cut him off.

"_Don't_ Amanda me, either," she snapped, finally lifting her eyes at him, "I'm going. You don't have a say in this."

"Don't I?" he felt anger getting at him… He was the father of her unborn child. He _did_ a have say in this!

But she shook her head, her voice adamant as she answered, "No. It's my decision."

He leaned toward her, and waved his arm at her, "You got a miscarriage six days ago!"

"I'm fine."

"You ain't fine." Her eyes lit, she sent him a look like a dagger. Rick softened his voice, "Amanda—baby—"

She cut him off again, "Don't call me baby," she sneered, "I'm not your baby."

He let out a sigh, shaking his head. "I know you want to be out—" he started again, but once again she cut him off.

"In case that you forgot it, Rick, I'm a police officer. You need me out there."

"I need you here, _too_. We need someone back here if we fucked this up—and you know damn well we might—If it happens, these people will need someone to lead them."

"Carol and Rosita stay," she said in return, "They can do it."

Rick shook his head negative. "No. They're good soldiers, but they're lone wolves. They can't lead. If it's not you, then I'm gonna need to give up either Maggie or Michonne, and they didn't have a miscarriage…unlike you."

Her face soured, but she didn't comment. "You know it's reasonable, Amanda," Rick persisted.

Slowly, she nodded, Rick watched it with contentment. He always knew she could accept the reason, but then she gave him a look, and added, "On one condition."

"I'm listening," he accepted then too, he could be reasonable too, when he wanted, and they started bargaining, and that meant good.

"I'm gonna come to the dry run with you. I'm a better strategist than anyone here. We need to make contingency plans. I need to see it myself, too."

Giving her another look, he nodded. She was right there, she was a damn well strategist, and she got an eye to locate the weak points, unbury what was hidden, Rick had just seen it today… drawing the dots together, she's deduced she looked like Lori… "Okay, you come to dry on, but stay in for the real thing."

Amanda nodded in agreement. Then gave him another look. "I—I talked with Aaron today. He let me stay here. I'm not coming back to the house," she stated as Rick stared at bewildered.

"You will stay here—?" he said, astonished, waving a hand around the garage.

"We're going to put a mattress-a bed or something like that. It got a shower too—so-" she shrugged, faltering off.

Rick shook his head. "This's ridiculous. You can't stay here. It's a damn garage."

She turned her head away from him with disinterest, "Slept at worse places."

"Amanda, enough! You gotta stop this! You gotta come back, your own life—your own room—your own bed—You don't belong here, dammit!" He took a step further in her, "You belonged with me!"

Her head snapped back at her, lit with a fire. "You mean I belong to you?" she hissed back.

"I mean what I say!" he said back, "This _isn't_ your life," he repeated what he'd told her earlier in the morning before the noon.

She snickered, "Yeah, my life belongs with _you_, right?" she asked, her voice dripping with a cutting mock, and she shook her head, "To be a pretty substitution for all the things you've lost!"

"For Christ's sake!" he bellowed out, lifting his head up, then his eyes returned to her again, "Are we really going to do this again?"

Her eyes narrowed, and she gave him a seething look, "You're right! Let's _not_," she hissed, and jumped down from her stool and started marching to the door.

Catching her at her arm, he stopped her. "Amanda, listen to me. I'm not with you because I want to replace you with Lori. Yes, you like look Lori, but it's not the reason why I said yes when you told me there was something between us. I said yes, because it was truth. Because here was something between us!"

"There was something between you and Michonne, too, but I didn't see you getting her tied up fucking her at the ass!" she snapped back, "So why? Why not her, but me?"

Rick gave her a look, and remembered what he'd thought himself too, "Michonne never pushed my buttons like you did, Amanda… never pushed our boundaries... I got…intrigued."

With his answer, her anger subsided a bit, and Rick felt—he felt like he was going at the right path. But a second later, she shook her head, "So you say it got nothing to do with how I look like your old wife but Michonne doesn't? _Really_?"

"I don't know, okay?" he asked back, his voice rising, he was getting tired of it—so tired of getting questioned for his _feelings_… "I was attracted, and I don't know why! Do you know why were you attracted to me? Do you know why you got _so_ wet pushing my damn buttons?"

The look she gave him told Rick the answer, no, she didn't know it, either. She let out a bitter snort then, "So what, is it only pheromones between us?" Rick looked at her, but she shook her head again. "I'm not talking about basic attraction, Rick, I'm not talking about _sex_. It's never been just sex between us, we _both_ knew it."

"Look, Lori and I weren't having a good marriage even before the turn. We got problems—" he started then, tried to explain, but she cut him off.

"For fuck's sake!" she cried out, "Are you going to stand there and give me that shit? What? She made you sleep at the couch…? Gave you the cold shoulder?" she snickered, then hissed, "Do I look like I care how your marriage was, Rick?"

Anger was building in him, if she wasn't interested in his fucking marriage why on the earth they were having this conversation at the first place! "I'm trying to explain!" he rasped, getting closer to her, his voice rising on his anger, "You're giving me shit I don't talk to you just like Lori used to do, but when I try, when I really try—you do anything but listen to me!"

"Just like Lori used to do?!" she yelled back his word at him, taking another step toward to him in return, "I'm _just_ like Lori, don't I?"

Inwardly, Rick swore. "No. No, you aren't like Lori. You aren't _even_ close! Lori was passive aggressive, she was—"

With a scream, she cut him off again, "Do you hear yourself talking?" she cried out, "Even now, instead of talking about _me_, all you're doing is talking about her! Lori this, Lori that… Is this how you convince me you _love_ me, Rick?"

He took a bolt from the workbench and threw it across the room. "And I always have to convince you, right?" He shouted at her back, "Always have to prove my love! Always have to _do_ something!" He shook his head, "It's always something, Amanda, _always_. You—you find out something to prove yourself that I don't love you then come back to bite my head off!" Walking on her closer, he pointed a finger, "First it was Michonne, then you threw a fit for Jessie, now you've started with Lori! What shall I do? What shall I do to prove myself to you, dammit, tell me! What would it be enough to make you _believe_ me? Do I need stop talking to Michonne, Jessie, or any other woman who dare talk to me? Do I need to go and kill all those walkers for you all by myself? Do I need to save the world? Do I need to go fucking hunt a fallen star for you? TELL ME!" He shouted, grabbing her at the upper arms, "What I need do to get you to believe me—WHAT?!"

She threw herself out of his grip, "You don't have to prove me anything!"

"Then what the hell do you want from me!"

"I want you to love me… for—being _me_!"

"I love you! I love you because it's _you_! That thing between us, it's there since the moment you told me you'd saved some people, too, but you won't never believe it, will you?" He shook his head, "It'll never be enough for you. You'll never feel it because no one ever lo—" he stopped, realizing what almost had left his mouth, but it was too late.

He was too fucking late! Her eyes at his, she nodded at him. "Say it," she challenged. He didn't. "No, you started it. Never start something you can't finish, right?" she demanded further, throwing his words back at his face, "Finish it, Rick, say it!"

He still stayed in silence.

A scream ripping off her, she turned aside and swept off all the cluster over the workbench with her arms— "I SAID SAY IT!"

"Amanda—" he started, but she cut him off again—

"_How_ can I know it? How can I know how it feels being loved…?" She barked out a laughter, bitter and curt, "Even my own damn mother left me at the hospital. You know—I used to wonder why—why brought a child into this world only to abandon her just the second after…it makes no sense…" She laughed out aloud again, shaking her head, holding the stool's back tightly with her fingers, "People are selfish, mothers the most."

He took a step toward her, "Amanda—baby—"

She raised her eyes at his, "If you ever call me baby again, Rick, I'll wipe the floor with your ass, god help me!"

They both stayed in silence for a moment, then she shook her head again. "You started this… you fucking started this…" Her fingers tightened at her grip, her knuckles turning to white, then suddenly twisting aside, she raised the stool above her head and hit it at the bench—"So yeah, I don't fucking know how it feels being loved—" She repeatedly hit the stool at the edge with each word, "because yes, NO ONE ever loved me before!"

She tossed the damaged stool away and walked on in him with the same furry, a guttural sneer at her lips— "I fucking hate you!"

"Baby—"

With a scream, she threw herself at him. "Amanda—!" he yelled back, turning around—and blocked her arm as she came at him, "Amanda, for Christ's sake, stop!"

Twisting her around, he trapped her arms with his, encircling her waist from her back, and tightened his grip as she trashed in his embrace. "Stop, baby, please—"

She stepped down on his foot with her boot's heel with all her strengthen and threw her head backward. It collided at his forehead with a heavy thud. Pain flashed over at his eyes. "AMANDA!"

"Let go off me!" she screamed back, and jumping in the air, she braced her feet on the bench and used the momentum to throw them back on the ground. He stumbled on his feet backwards but stopped before he tumbled down on the ground when his back hit at the wall. Then his back secured, he tightened his grip on her further.

"Stop it, _now_!" he hissed at her ear.

With a hiss, she tried to break off his grip. Then she suddenly stopped, leaning down over the arms that circled over her waist, grunting out— "Arghhh-!"

His heart stopping, Rick recognized the grunt. "Amanda!"

She gave out a sharp breath, her legs buckling out, "R-Rick!"

Rick caught her before she collapsed down on the ground. Leaning over her shoulder, Rick saw blood painting over her groin again—

With a curse, he picked her up in his arms.

* * *

_A/N: Uh-oh, trouble never ends, right?_

_This chapter was very hard to write because I want to delve both Amanda and Rick's state of mind, and I hope I managed it well. Amanda's biggest issue is never truly felt being loved-it's usually the main reason for every fear of abandonment and self-confidence issue-and it was time to I get into that for Amanda, because it's the core of her character, too, as she's basically like a little girl who looks for unconditional love. I imagine Rick not having such kinds of "requirements" more suited to childhood as he was raised by loving parents, therefore could recognize it quickly, though he's got other issues, like her lack of belief in him... I want to portray him getting truly angered by it-because it was basically what had messed up his relationship with Lori after Rick had killed Shane._

_Don't hesitate to tell me what you think, please-I'd really like to know it._


	37. Chapter 37

XXXVII.

* * *

"Lay down—" the doctor told her as Beth tried to ease her back into the pillows as Amanda tried to leave the bed the next morning, "You should rest."

Amanda gave out a grunt, "I'm fine."

"I beg to differ," Beth said, forcing her down.

"I'm fine," Amanda repeated.

"If you keep this up, your bleeding might start again," the doctor remarked firmly, "And every time you bleed, your chances for another pregnancy lowers a bit down." Hearing the words, Amanda ceased moving.

The words sent a shiver through her spine, and Amanda had no idea why. It wasn't like that she would try to get pregnant ever again, no, this time had been enough for her, but the words had still made her freeze—trembling with fear.

She wouldn't get a child—not into this world—this madness—this madness was an one-time thing—and seriously after everything with had happened with Rick how she would _ever_ get pregnant again—she didn't even know what they were anymore… but despite everything, letting them pushing her down, she rested back into the pillows, fear coiling into stomach like a dead stone.

Why—why on this fucking earth everything had to be this—confusing—this complicated? She missed the times when everything had been simple and clear—when words didn't hurt, when emotions didn't confuse, when people didn't disappoint, when she didn't feel like she had insides more fractured than a broken glass.

_You will never believe it because no one ever loved you…_

Her baby would've loved her—truly loved her just because _who_ she was… And she would've known it…felt it, too, maternal instincts—she'd already felt it—even before she'd known it'd been there—growing inside her—she'd felt it—felt she could tear whole the world apart to keep it safe—yet she'd lost it—had failed her baby even before it born…

She shook her head again, telling herself again it was the best—some people should've never been parents, perhaps she was just one of them… Tears watered her eyes, prickling, and she was so tired of crying now.

She then saw Rick at the door, looking at the bed. Their eyes caught each other, and without a word, she just turned and lay on her other side, facing the wall. She didn't want to see him, didn't want to talk to him… She couldn't do this. _They_ obviously couldn't do this. They were wrong for each other; they shouldn't be together. She was so tired of it, tired of constantly fighting, ripping each other apart. She just wanted it end now… She wanted old life back, her comfort zone—she hadn't had much of anything, but at least she hadn't been ending up in the infirmary three times in a week.

Rick and her—they shouldn't be together. They _couldn't_ be together. They were a couple of those people who could never be together no matter how much they loved each other. It just didn't work, would never work with them. Rick had been right on that. It was _always_ something with them.

And she was tired, god knew she was… As he walked to her, Beth and Denise left them alone with a muttered excuse. He must've been outside the whole night while she had been out, she knew, but he'd kept his distance since now, so she guessed he finally felt ready to face with her, and that meant he finally felt ready for a talk.

And that was the last thing she wanted to do right now.

She heard the chair besides the bed crackling as he most probably settled himself down on it, but kept staring at the wall. She hoped he would take the hint and would leave her the fuck alone, but she also knew she would never be that luck.

She heard then a soft sigh from him, and a slow murmur of her name, "Amanda…"

And it made feel so angered—tiredness turning into a fist of fury, and she was no stranger to it, too. She needed to find her balance her back, and she just couldn't do it with Rick, apparently. Everything with him felt like she tumbling down over on the rollercoaster, without any safety belt clinched around her waist. She twisted her neck backward, "Save it," she hissed, "I don't want to hear it."

"Amanda," he repeated her name, this time sterner.

She turned her head back, "Leave me alone. I'm done with it, Rick."

His hand reached out, and turned her to himself. "No. We will talk."

Amanda looked at the little white band across the lump at his forehead where she'd hit him last night. Denise must've dealt with it, and she felt—ashamed—thinking what they might've thought of it—thinking what kind of a crazy bitch Rick had for a lover—and it just made it all clearer to her— She wasn't like that, she didn't want to be like _that_…losing herself attacking him like a mad banshee— "I don't want to talk anymore," she said, "It's _not_ like we're able to solve anything with talking." She shook her head, "This—this isn't working. We have to stop kidding ourselves now."

His eyes narrowed, "What do you mean?"

"I mean what I say," she shot back his words, "I'm not doing it anymore."

He gave her a look, "Do you want us to stop?" he asked, leaning down towards her, and her tears almost broke hearing the words… No, she didn't want to… she had never wanted them to stop, _never_—but it wasn't about what she wanted to.

"It's not about what I want!" so she told him that, "It's about what I can't. And I can't do this, okay? I just can't. We—we're…like one of those couples…you know, like in the movies—you know they love each other but they could never be together because they're so fucked up..." she smiled bitterly. Such couple they really made. "There's so much shit going on between us, we got so much issues," she went on, shaking her head, "It doesn't _work_," she stressed out, "We can't stop fighting. There's an army of dead out there, almost banging at the door, and instead of dealing with it, we rip each other apart…This isn't working." Her eyes held his, and repeated his words again, "You _don't_ have time for this."

His eyes narrowing further, he leaned down on in her further, "Forget about the dead—"

She snorted out, "They're hard to forget…"

Giving her a look, he took her hand, "Amanda…yes, we got issues, but we love each other, you _know_ it."

She pulled her hand back, "And you told me it's never gonna be enough for me!" she bit off, "Guess you were right."

He shook his head, "No. You can't do this."

"I _can_," she said decisively, "and I will."

"We belong to each other, Amanda," he told her then, getting closer to her, "You can't."

She fixated her eyes on his again. "Gorman always used to tell Joan she couldn't leave him because she belonged to him… Is that what you mean? I can't leave you because I belong to you, Rick?" She stared at him sternly, "I thought you're _not_ like Gorman."

He flinched, his face closing off, his eyes turning colder, "I'm not gonna force you to anything. If you _really_ want to finish this, we're going to finish it."

She shook her head, "I told you," she said, "What I want doesn't matter—this's how it's gonna be."

He gave her another look, long and hard, then said, "There's no going back from this, Amanda," he warned her, "If you want it to be like that, we won't talk it again. This _isn't_ a game."

She shook her head again, "I'm _not_ testing you, Rick. I'm done with that, too." She paused, and looked at him back, "I—I'm just t-tired." Her voice broke with the last, and she felt the tears threatening again. She brought her hand over her eyes and wiped the moist—

Looking at her, Rick finally nodded. "Okay."

Tears broke off, and she almost started crying at him—and she had no idea why—this was what she had asked for—what should've been—this was the best for both of them—this just wasn't working. It was a fact, and Amanda never denied a fact… She accepted things as they were… Shaking her head, she wiped her eyes again, "Sorry," she muttered, "It's just—" she started, but stopped. Why she was trying to explain?

God, she didn't need to explain a damn thing now. They'd broken up. They didn't need to explain shit to each other now.

God, how this was going to be now? She knew she should leave—but how?

Then Rick came closer to her again, "Amanda—just one thing. I want you to stay in. You'll come back to the house." She shook her head. "We'll find you a new room—in the other house if you want, but you'll come back." His eyes held hers, "You'll stay. This _is_ your life, too."

She shook her head, "It doesn't work that way."

"I don't care. This is what I _won't_ let. You'll stay." He stood up, "Ignore me all you want, but you're not going anywhere."

With that, he left the infirmary, and Amanda started crying loudly after his back.

# # #

"You did what?" Beth asked her later in the evening when they'd come back from the intersection. They- all Alexandria had gone to close the road, all except Amanda, of course.

Denise had cleared her off after the noon, warning her again to lay low, and this time Amanda was ready to listen. She'd stayed behind, started packing her things into a duffel bag, all the while trying not burst into the tears again. Luckily, she didn't have many things, so it was a short struggle, and then she went to the other house, and roomed with Tara and Carol. The women didn't make a fuss sharing the room with another person, and had kept themselves their questions, so it was also a dull affair, too.

She shrugged, settling down on Beth's bed. Rick wasn't at the house, so she'd come to see Beth. "Well, broke up," she answered, "Talked it this morning. I moved to Carol and Tara's room today."

Beth shook her head, "Amanda, why don't you talk to him?"

She smiled bitterly, "Talking doesn't work, believe me." In fact, talking had just made things worse. Come to think of it, they'd been doing just fine biting each other… when talking part had come, they had fucked it up. Perhaps they were just like wild animals, only be able to communicate either by sniffing or biting—wild animals didn't sit down and talk shit. She scoffed at the thought, smiling bitterly.

Beth gave him a look, searching, "That lump at his forehead…" she asked then, "Did you do it?"

Amanda shrugged. Beth sighed. "Why?"

Amanda looked at her friend. "He—he told me I'd never believe he loves me because no one ever loved me before."

Beth stared at her for a while, open mouthed, rather speechless, and said, "Once he said he couldn't reach you—couldn't make you believe—" The younger woman looked at her, "Was it—was it like it?"

She stood up. "I don't want to talk about it."

She just wanted to stop now, wanted how things had been before—simple and not confusing. She could deal with hard. She could deal with difficult, but she couldn't deal with this. "Amanda, why don't you believe him?"

There again, tears… but she was tired of trying to stop them either. "It's easier for you to say, Beth—" she said, shaking her head, "Everyone loves you. Everyone! Even Dawn loved you."

She scowled, giving Amanda a pointed look, "She tried to kill me."

"Yet, she loved you!" Amanda cried back. Dawn had been like a jealous boyfriend, like…Gorman, had tried to hurt Beth when her affections for the younger woman didn't return as the way she had wanted to—she'd wanted to make Beth her protégé—her adopted progeny, someone who would take over the world Dawn had tried to build after she had passed out. Amanda knew it. "You—you're wired up that way. You don't know otherwise. You're—incorruptible." She paused, giving out a sigh, "You're perfect."

In answer, Beth only gave out a sigh back. "Both you and Daryl got this thing—you both see me like an angel or something—I'm not," she said, "I'm not perfect, Amanda." She rolled up her sleeves and showed up her forearm—and Amanda stared at the faint, little scares all over her forearm, from her wrist to her elbow—"This—this was the something stupid Daryl caught me doing. I started cutting myself when Daryl didn't want to be with me. He got so afraid after seeing it—he—he stayed with me." Rolling her sleeve back, Beth walked to her, "No one is perfect."

Stopping in front of her, Beth looked at her in earnest, her hand touching at her arm, "I know you tell yourself you don't deserve this, just like Daryl used to do—but you gotta accept it now. You just need to accept it."

"Accept what?" she asked with a whisper.

"Accept that you deserve it. You deserve this, deserve love, happiness, family—everything."

"How did he—?" Amanda asked then, again her voice a whisper. She—she would like to—god, she really wanted to—she just didn't know how…

"He just stopped fighting with it," Beth only said.

Amanda let out a bitter laugh, "It's not that easy—" she shook her head, "It's not."

"It _is_," Beth said back, stressing out the last word, "You just don't want to admit it." She paused again, "When Daryl refused me first—he told me—he told me—the only reason I wanted to be with him was that because the world had gone mad and I lost everyone else—had no one but him and he couldn't accept it. I got so depressed—you saw how I was—felt so lonely. That was the reason why I started cutting myself—but you know in a way he was right, too. I didn't want to accept it, either, but he was right. If things wouldn't have been the way they were, me and Daryl—" She shook her head again, "Me and Daryl would've never been together. Never would've loved each other. At first, it hurt, but I accepted it, too."

"How?" Amanda whispered out again, her sight of a blur— "How did you?"

"I just did—" Beth sighed out, "There is no secret way, no answer. I'm sorry. I—just—I just thought it wasn't that important. I just wanted to be with him, all the rest to be damned."

Crying, she dropped on her knees. Beth hugged her, kneeling down, her arms circling her tightly, "Amanda, honey, you just have to accept it, too. _You_ deserve this. Just let it go."

She passed the rest of the evening in her new room, Beth's words turning in her mind, and everything felt so—strange—the room, the bed, the curtains, the wardrobe…everything. This wasn't her life, she felt it then, it felt all wrong—like she really didn't belong here—Rick's words turning in her mind, too… _This isn't your life…_ Then with a clarity that made her fall on the ground again, she felt it—it was wrong, felt wrong, and she knew what felt so wrong too. There wasn't Rick's scent in the room, that manly odor mixed with sweat and blood—he always had a salty scent—a scent made her feel like she was at home. The bed was different the same—and there was no cot—no baby toys scattered around— This wasn't her life, and it was a fact, too, and Amanda never denied a fact, never ran away from it, she always accepted things as the way they were—until the moment she had met Rick…

It'd been never sex between them—never, and they loved each other, and perhaps she really looked like just Lori—perhaps he was just trying to get what he couldn't have had with his old wife—but was it really that important? _I just wanted to be with him, all the rest to be damned… _

Then at that moment, she realized, she just wanted to be with Rick, too, all the rest to be damned. She—didn't belong here. She belonged with Rick, in her own room, at her own bed—with the man she loved…

She left the room and went to the other house. Everyone looked at her when she came back, but no one spoke, Beth only smiled—encouraging, and her eyes shining— tears in her eyes, Amanda smiled back.

She started climbing the stairs then, and went to her own room. Faltering at the doorsteps, her hand at the door's knob, she hesitated—god, this—this was going to suck. She really behaved like a crazy bitch. She'd just broken up with him this morning. For a second or so, she even thought of faking another breakdown—Daryl had gotten so frightened seeing Beth like that, and it made Daryl lost all of her reservations... Amanda had noticed it before—just hadn't understood the reason—and Beth had really done that to herself—she felt sad, but perhaps Beth was right, no one was perfect.

Her hand on the knob, she shook her head. She was being stupid again. She just needed to suck it up, and apologize to him. He said it wasn't a game, but he loved her—he could forgive her—

_God, please, let him forgive me…_ Amanda made her first prayer after long years before she opened the door.

Rick was placing down Judith into the cot when he heard the door opening. He twisted aside, still leaning down over the cot, and seeing her at the threshold, he paused as she stepped in and closed the door behind her. Wordlessly, he slowly brought down Judith in, and straightened back.

He then turned and looked at her still in silence.

She opened her mouth—and of course, tears just followed—she shook her head, lifting her head up, breathing out— no words followed, she just cried more... So much for not getting into another breakdown…

He let out a sigh then… "Amanda—"

She rushed forward and threw herself at him. Her arms circled at his waist, she rested her head at his chest. "I—I'm sorry—" she murmured, "I—I'm so sorry."

He didn't move an inch in her embrace, his arms didn't hold her back, but he didn't step back, either. "You just broke up with me this morning," he remarked finally, words crisp and curt.

"I know—" she muttered.

"I told you there would be no going back—" he reminded her, "I told you this _isn't_ a game."

She nodded, "I—I know. I'm—I'm sorry. You were right. That—that wasn't my life… this—_this_ is my life. With you. It's a—fact, too." She let out another shaking breath, "I—I talked with Beth—" The rest of the words stuck in her throat, she managed to mumble out, "I—I don't want to lose you."

He let out another sigh, but still didn't hold her back. His hand reached to her chin instead, and lifting her head up, he made her look at him directly, "This—_this_ is the last time, Amanda," he told her then firmly, "If you ever try to me break up with me again, we won't do this, do you understand?"

Quickly, she nodded. "I won't. I won't break up with you again," she said, "I—I promise."

He let out a grunt, then gave her a bit of smile, "I'm gonna hold you on it."

She raised on her toes, "You do that—" she whispered out, then asked, swallowing through a lump in her throat—She wanted him…god help her…she wanted him, all the rest to be damned… "Rick—can I—can I have my ring back?"

Rick stared at her, and started laughing, his arms finally tightened around her, and brought her closer, "Amanda Shepherd, what I'm gonna do with you?" he whispered into her ear, "_What_ I'm gonna do with you—"

"Your wife," she whispered back before his lips found hers, "Make me your wife."

# # #

He had missed her. He'd so missed her—missed the feel of her warmness between her arms, the way she nested across his chest—her head tucked under his neck… He had no idea how Beth had managed to talk into her—but again Beth and Amanda shared a connection even before Rick had ever known her, the younger woman had even managed to talk it into Daryl, so Rick knew he shouldn't be surprised, shouldn't have felt jealous of it, either. He got Amanda back—between his arms—where she belonged—the rest, the rest they would deal with it later.

Right now, he just wanted to have her—just like he'd wished before—they still had a lot of shit they needed to work out—a lot of issues they needed to settle down—but at least she got one fact clear, finally—this was her life, and there was no going back from this.

Amanda Grimes.

Rick decided he liked the ring of it.

He held her hand, felt the touch of the metal on her finger as he clasped his fingers through hers. "This—" he warned her sternly, "This—this will never leave off your finger, Amanda."

Demurely, she nodded quickly.

Satisfied, he nodded back. He wasn't kidding there. This was the last time, he swore to himself. She'd just finished things this morning, even without letting him talk first, almost bullied him into it, throwing that bastard's name in the middle. Rick wasn't going to do that again. In almost two months, they'd had two big break ups, countless fights, one miscarriage, and they just got married. The ring would never take off her finger, _never_, he was adamant on it. Then he realized he gotta still find himself a ring, too. His old ring was still with him, but he couldn't dare to put it on back—Amanda might throw out another fit—and—and he didn't want to, either. This—this was a new beginning. He didn't want to…taint it with anything from his old marriage. He let out an amused scoff.

Amanda lifted her neck up, "What?"

"Nothing."

"Hmm…" she hummed softly, then lowered her head back on his chest. His hand started trailing along her back, making a curve along her spine. She shivered, and got closer to him, letting out a moan. "Denise—" she rasped out, "S-she said we should wait at least a week more…" she explained.

"'s okay," Rick mumbled, though his hand lowered over her hips backwards, and he groped her ass— "I—I've just missed you," he rasped out.

"Missed you, too," she breathed out back.

They lapsed into another silence then, one hand groping her body on its account, his other hand still playing with her hand—tucking at the ring—his wife… Perhaps—when this all settled down—when they were safe again, they would throw—a party—a small dinner party, he thought then, they'd gotten married pretty much unceremonially. He'd just put the ring on her finger as she'd smiled at him. Perhaps Amanda would even cook for them… And Rick would find a white dress for her, too… He wanted to see her in a white dress, a wedding dress, his bride—She would be so beautiful—

"How did it go today?" Amanda asked then, interrupting his rather enjoyable dreams, bringing him back to the real world.

"Good," he said, "We closed half of the road. I think we can go to the dry on the day after." He paused, his hand faltering on her hip, too, "Do—do you still want to go?" he asked, not sure if he would like to hear her answer.

She paused too, "I—I don't know. I want to—but Denise said I should lay low. If the bleeding continues, I—I might get problems with getting pregnant again," she said with a small voice.

He tensed, "Then you _will_ stay back, Amanda," Rick told her with a voice he hoped would brook no argument, and saw her nodding quickly again, a frightful expression passing over her face.

"Okay."

Rick realized then she had been afraid—afraid of not being able to get pregnant again. Bringing his hands up, he tightened them over her, and kissed her shoulder in response. They were going to have another baby. When this all settled up, after Rick dealt with the herd, they were going to try again.

They again drifted off into silence between each other's arms, and again he felt the peace he'd felt before—outside the monsters were still there, but here at least, between each other's arms, they could pretend… they could pretend everything was going to be okay.

"Rick?" Amanda broke the silence again.

"Hmm?"

"What you said earlier—that thing between us—feeling it since I told you I'd saved some people too—did you mean it?" she whispered.

Rick bowed his head to look at her. "Have I ever lied to you, Amanda?" he asked back, then shook his head, "Yes, I meant it."

She nodded, running her eyes away, "I—I felt it too, I think—" she paused, "Sometimes—I feel like—we're alike."

He smiled, "We are—" he told her, "Only you're our better half."

She laughed back, "Me?" She shook her head, "Nope. You _are_ the better half. I'm just the crazy bitch who tries to kick your ass occasionally."

He laughed at that, too, "I like you crazy too," he said, bowing his head again to give her a pointed look, and dropped his voice into a husky tone, "It's got a certain…_appeal_."

She give him a look back, then shook her head with a huff. "Yeah, I got it." She scoffed, "Men."

He let out a sigh. "Guilty as charged," he muttered. It was driving him crazy, but yes, it also got a certain appeal—being able to calm her down like this—he'd felt it when he'd gotten her pregnant that night—a certain kind of power—a strengthen—a feel of specialty—it made him feel _able_ to—he could do this, do all these crazy shit, protect his family—_Men_— He let out another sigh. He was quite predictable on that. And another woman would've played it with that—Lori had tried to do it—but _not_ Amanda. No, Amanda would've tried to get _other_ women to play that role, but not herself.

"But you're the _better_ half," he told her then, his voice low, but earnest, "You're a smart, capable woman with a devious mind, but you still try your best—you still care—you don't want to admit it, but you do. I know things have never been easy for you, but you don't use it as an excuse. All those people at the hospital, they wanted to stay with _you_." Bowing his head, he gave her a look, and saw her staring at him—an astonished expression at her face and then Rick realized—he should keep going—keep talking. He should at least make her sure that she knew it—knew it right now. Tomorrow would be too late. There would be never a time for it again, and he wanted her to know it—if—if something happened, he wanted her to know it, too.

"If you wanted, you could've made a powerful leader, but you don't care for power but yet again, when you feel you have to, you take the responsibility, try your damn best. You never give up. You want to make things better. I wanted it, too." He paused, letting a deep breath out now, "Sometimes—sometimes I feel like I'm only good for killing now." He gave out a bitter laugh, "Not even much good at it, either. But I wanted—I wanted to put it back together. I'm sorry."

"Rick—" she whispered out, tears running from her eyes.

He wiped them off. "And I made you cry again," he said with a sigh.

She shook her head, lifting on her elbow resting it on his chest. "Rick—you're not only good for killing! How _can_ you even think like that? You've made a family out of _us_, you brought us together, kept us alive, safe… _Even_ Deanne saw it. She even let you take the lead." Her eyes moist with tears, she smiled down at him, "I told you once… you're still a sucker, baby. Officer friendly."

Her smile almost blinded him as her words pierced through him—and he remembered the talk they'd shared before he had asked her to marry him… Then Rick knew, he really _knew _it. Catching her again, he rolled her over the bed and took her under him.

He lifted himself on his side on his elbow, too, and lightly touched her hair with his other hand. "Do you—do you want to know _why_ I love you, Amanda?" he whispered, lowering his head toward her, "You might be the only woman in this godforsaken earth who _knows_ me and still calls me a sucker."

And he loved her for that, loved her truly because of that, because she knew how hard it was—she knew the pain—the sacrifices it required, for that they were really alike. Despite all the blood at their hands, they'd still saved some people. She believed that, and he wanted to have it, that belief—it hurt—it hurt him—Lori had only seen a monster after he'd killed Shane. Sometimes he even wondered if Carl still blamed him for what had happened—but he wanted to believe that—believe in deep down, he was still a good guy, he was still a sucker.

"I know we're not exactly the epitome of good people, Rick," she told him then, letting out a sigh, "but the truth is they're worse people than us out there. A great deal of worse. It's not a happy thought, but well, it's what it's. We're still _better_ than them." She snorted out, "Maybe it's just semantics. I try not to think about it." She heaved out heavily, "Having a conscience is a very messy thing."

"Yeah—" he whispered, leaning on her lips, "Life would be so much easier without it, right?"

"Yeah—sometimes it just sucks, but that's life, too," she breathed out, touching at his lips with hers, "Rick—I love you—"

"And I love you, too," he murmured back before he kissed her.

* * *

_A/N: Oh my god, I finally made them to this point, someone give me a medal, please, heh :) Their affair was a tumultuous one, a very bumpy road as both Rick and Amanda have got some many shit going on, but at least she finally put the ring on her finger, and Rick actually opened up to her. That was hard, too. I just couldn't imagine Rick yammering about how amazing Amanda is before they screwed up everything first._

_Now, as they're quite happy, I'm off to make them miserable again! _


	38. Chapter 38

_Hey there, the end might disturb again, but my usual official warning stands again-this is Walking Dead. I mean no disrespect whatsoever to any, please, don't take it that way. Thanks._

XXXVIII.

* * *

Slowly waking up to the first day of the rest of her life, Amanda lazily smiled as sunlight slipped through the curtains at the windows, painting the room in a hazy golden mist, and turning on her side she looked at Rick, and who had already woken up, lying on his side, too, watching her.

In any other time, the notion—anyone watching her sleep should've disturbed the shit out of her but now—Rick—her husband watching her only made her smile wider, and she nested against his chest as his arm went around her waist to pull her closer. Rick bowed his head over her shoulder, giving a kiss along her neck.

"Hmm—" she hummed with satisfaction… she could really wake up like this for the rest of her life… then Rick murmured against her skin—

"Slept well, Mrs. Grimes?"

And her heart skipped a beat as she trembled… Mrs. Grimes… She really liked hearing it. "Say it again—" she murmured back, lifting her neck backward to give him an access point, sighing out deeply.

She _really_ liked hearing it… but Rick lifted his eyes up at hers, his lips barely touching at her skin, and asked almost innocently, "Slept well?"

She tucked her head down, "_Rick_—" He gave her back a half grin, and Amanda was struck how younger he looked now—how beautiful he truly was—and he loved her, truly loved her—because it was _her_, because she was the only woman in this world who would still call him a sucker—and Amanda knew what that meant. She was aware there was still a lot of shit they'd covered up again, but she didn't care. This was her life, her fact; Amanda could never deny a fact. She draped one arm across his shoulder. "The other thing…" she whispered.

"Mornin'?" he asked back, still grinning, a mischievous glint in his eyes, and she rolled her eyes, but couldn't help herself but giggle—she actually _giggled_—she couldn't even remember the last time she ever giggled—

"Rick—"she whined playfully, and Rick laughed…

"Well, you have to be more precise about what you want, _Mrs. Grimes—"_

Shaking her head, she giggled more. "I like hearing it."

He pushed her hair out of her shoulder, and losing his smile, he gave her a look—"And I'm glad to hear that, Amanda."

Heat crawled along her neck, and she bowed her head, heaving out a sigh, hid against his shoulder. She rested herself against him further, and felt his hardness against her groin. But they had slept well, indeed.

She shook her head again, sighing—"All those wild sexes we had—in all thooose funny places, pushing buttons and biting—" she drawled out the words, her forehead still pressed on his shoulder, "and we actually _slept_ at our wedding night—" She laughed, "How ironic…"

Rick gave out a snort. "You tell me?" His hands moved toward her ass, and rolling on his back, he hoisted her up over him. He then nestled her fully against his erection. "When you're cleared off, I'm gonna lock us in here for a whole day—" he growled out, his lips founding her neck again.

"_Only_ for a day?" she shot back as his lips trailed across her jawline, his beard scratching her skin in a way that made her tremble further, "Sounds…_disappointing_—" she breathed out long, and gasped as he bit the sensitive spot under her ear—

"Believe me, when the day ends, you're gonna beg me to let ya go—"

"I highly doubt it."

In answer, he chuckled—his teeth still grazing at her neck, his hands firmly against her ass, and Amanda was starting to get the idea that he rather enjoyed that fine asset of hers—then he started sucking the spot he'd bitten.

She violently trembled, and pulled back a little. "Rick—honey—" she forced out between hoarse breaths, her core burning and wet…wanting him, but again…. "We—we shouldn't start something we can't finish…"

He grunted out, closing his eyes giving out a sharp breath, but nodding, he rolled her off of him and moved away. "_Right_." Lying on his back, he brought his arm over his eyes. "How long had Denise said we should wait again?"

Amanda let out a loud laugh, her chest swelling with emotions, seeing him wanting her like this made her feel good, _very_ good. She always knew he wanted her, but this time it felt different. She was his wife now… and a wife had to take care of her husband.

So she moved toward him again. "Don't worry, honey, I got you—" she smirked at him and started straightening up, her fingers tugging at the edge of his low rise trunks. Shifting his head, he gave her a heated look as she smirked wider down at him, "May no one ever say Mrs. Grimes doesn't know how to take care of her husband."

As her hand slipped inside his underwear, Rick threw his head backward with a hiss, his neck straining to reveal his Adam's apple, and it was damn sexy—so damn sexy for a little while she forgot what she was about to do but just wanted to go up and kiss him there—bite him there—just the sight of him was enough to push her over the edge, the tug inside her was pulsing… She wanted him—so, so very badly—oh dear god, what she could've given just to feel him inside her now—filling her—filling every emptiness inside her—

Shaking her head, she bent down. This was about him. He was so good to her last night—forgiving her, talking to her, telling her why he loved her—no one but _her_… She should return the favor. She pulled him out and took him inside her mouth.

Rick gave out a hiss, and she lifted her eyes to watch him again from his crotch where she'd bent down, and their eyes met for a second, Rick's eyes turning darker and more feral… He drove his neck back again when she moved further, taking him in as deep as she could manage and his hand moved to her head too, coiling her hair around it, and pushed her in over himself further and further, deeper and deeper… She almost choked with each stroke but kept going on. She was going to make him happy. She was going to make him as happy as he did her, feel appreciated. He wasn't only good for killing—how could _even_ think of that... Without him, she would've been miserable, she would've been empty. She would've always yearned for more, but never could've dared to try, and she wished she could've erased the past, wiped off the invisible scars on him—she wished she could help him—be there for him. She was his wife. She had to be there for him…

His hand at her hair tightened as she quickened her pace, keeping up with his speed as he directed her with his hand—and from his ragged breaths she knew he was close—she knew he was damn close—and she was throbbing so badly with need, the need to feel him…feel him in there, fill her emptiness in but she pushed the thought away, _this_ was about him. And she was going to make him happy—make him forget everything a bit and just be…happy. She could at least do that…but just before he reached his peek a sudden wail came out from the cot, and then Judith started crying—rather loudly.

"Fuck!" Rick swore out with a hiss, his hand loosening his grip at her hair as she stopped dead, still having him in her mouth. Amanda lifted her eyes up back at him, and their eyes met as Judith kept crying, loudly, very loudly.

Letting him go, Amanda straightened back. "I-I'll get her," she mumbled out, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

Moving his arm over his eyes again, Rick nodded wordlessly. Amanda swept over the bed, and stood up. Wiping her hands with a wet tissue, she picked up the baby girl, and brought her back to the bed. She rested Judith between them as Rick still lay on his back motionlessly. "You've just killed daddy a little bit here, sweetheart," she whispered at Judith, smiling, her fingers caressing the baby's tummy.

Rick lowered his arm, shaking his head, "I—I forgot how this was—" he said, still shaking his head and gave her a look, then rolled over toward them, and lay on his stomach as his arm circled both her and Judith, "We better get used to _this_." He let out a loud, gruff groan with exasperation, his cheek pressed on the pillow…"A whole week…gon' lock us a whole week—how that sounds now?" he roughed out, his eyes locked on hers.

She smiled ruefully, "Sounds like... a _dream_," and said back, sighing out.

In answer, Rick sighed back deeply, too. "Yeah…" Another groan followed… "'tis gon' kill me even before that herd might get the chance…" he muttered out under his breath as Amanda felt her chest tightened at the words.

# # #

"You ain't gon' believe it," Beth exclaimed, standing in front of Daryl as he knelt down in front of his new bike at the yard of Aaron's garage. Daryl gave her a quick look before turning back to his work, as if he _already_ decided what Beth was about to let him know wouldn't matter to him but Beth didn't let his lack of enthusiasm dampened her good mood. No. Even Daryl Dixon's moods wouldn't foul her _mood_ right now. They were deep in the trouble, like always, but Beth was just happy to have these little moments of happiness from where she could find, and she was happy—gigantically happy for her friend. Amanda deserved happiness, Rick deserved it, after he'd so much struggled, too, and Beth was happy for them. Maybe they wouldn't get holiday, birthdays, and summer picnics anymore, but at least they could get _that_. Granted, there wasn't actually a wedding so to speak, but they still got a _wedding._ She'd seen Amanda's ring this morning, the shy, hopeful smile the older woman had given her when she'd showed it…

Beth smiled further, bouncing on her heels, "Amanda and Rick! They got married last night!"

Daryl's head lifted up from the bike, and he arched an eyebrow under his hair, "They started _talking_ again?"

Beth rolled her eyes. Daryl Dixon always being a party pooper… "_Obviously," _Beth shot back. Daryl must be glad though. After Amanda had gone to the other house yesterday, Daryl had come back to their room, but this was even better. This was how it was supposed to be. Daryl hadn't said a thing when Amanda had moved to their room, but she knew he had missed her. Beth could understand. She'd missed him, too, and Amanda had been…hard to deal with when she was hurt but that was all the past now. _All's well that ends well,_ she told herself. They were going to be okay. They were going to deal with that herd like they always did, and they were going to be okay. Amanda was going to have another baby—perhaps even they would try—if—if Daryl—Beth didn't know. Since the thing with the late doctor had happened, Daryl was so worried about Sam. He didn't want to show it, but Beth knew. A baby with Daryl… Beth had always wanted to have a baby—she just didn't know—but seeing Amanda…she didn't know.

She shook her head, and started explaining. "I talked with her yesterday. I told her don't be an idiot, and accept it. Told her she deserves it—" She gave him a pointed look, "Having someone who loves you isn't so bad, right?"

Daryl gave her the look back, but wordlessly mumbled out, "Hmm—"

Beth laughed out, and knelt down on the ground next to him, and kissed him at his cheek. "I love you, too, honey," she teased.

"Is it ready?" Beth then asked, changing the topic, gesturing at the bike with her head. The herd was still there. After everything settled, they—they might sit down and talk, too. "Will you ride it to the intersection today?"

Daryl hadn't taken it outside yet so Beth reasoned he would want to try. Daryl bobbed his head, confirming her guess. "Yeah. Gotta do a test drive before the dry on."

The similar fear caught Beth again. He was going to lead a massive herd away, riding on _that_ _thing_, completely open to every danger and threat. Each time Beth thought about it, she felt like losing her mind. She knew it had to be him—there wasn't anyone else who would do this, maybe Rick or Abraham, but Rick needed to lead this whole thing—and he wouldn't trust Abraham to do it…not with Abraham's recklessness and alcohol consummation, so it had to be Daryl—Beth understood it. She just didn't like it.

She had to be there with him. Help him. Protect him if she could. She needed to see it-know that he was fine and…in one piece. Daryl was still opposing the idea, but Beth didn't care. She was going to go with him. She wasn't a damn damsel in distress who needed constant protection. She'd done things, too. Though, Daryl had other opinions on that, and now that Amanda had bled again, she knew Rick would have never let her go—Amanda herself wouldn't have risked her chances that way, either, Beth also knew. It was only her and Abraham now, and she wasn't sure if Daryl would like it any better this way.

Still, Beth was going with him. She wasn't going to stay behind.

"How is Sam?" Beth asked then, changing the topic again. It was a fight she didn't want to get into again.

His lips clenched. "The same," he said, "He refused to leave the house."

Beth felt sad. What had happened to the little boy made her so sad—especially seeing Daryl like this, that clenched lips—that tight frown… It hurt Beth, making her feel helpless because it cut so deep for Daryl and she didn't know how she could help him.

Getting beaten—getting beaten was something she'd never experienced herself before Dawn. She used to pity people who had seen suffered that in high school before, but had never truly understood how it felt not before Dawn's hand raised and hit her but getting it from your parents—from people who were supposed to love you—protect you—treasure you— No…she couldn't understand it. She didn't _want to_ understand it. It was wrong.

"Why don't you ask him to work with you on the bike?" Beth suggested, the idea coming at her. The young boy looked like he'd idolized Daryl, so it might work. Beth wanted it work.

Daryl gave her a look then slowly nodded. "'Kay."

She nodded back. "A'right then," she stood up, "See ya at the intersection."

When she arrived to the infirmary, she found Amanda already there, questioning Denise. "But—but do you think it'd be safe…?" Amanda asked as the new doctor's face turned a shade of red so fierce, Beth for a moment questioned if she wanted to know what exactly was Amanda trying to determine if it was safe or not.

"Err—I—I'm not really sure—" Denise said back, fidgeting, "This isn't _really_ my expertise."

The new doctor was sounding really disturbed, as if she'd prefer to be anywhere but here at the moment, but Amanda wasn't having any of it— "But I need to know it for sure, doctor… You see, we just got married and _slept_ whole night. It's rather…frustrating. I want to know if it'd be one hundred percentage safe if we do it…that way."

A blush coming at her, Beth started getting an idea what Amanda was talking about… "Um—I daresay yes, but I'd be still careful," the doctor finally gave in, "If you—bleed, you should stop."

Amanda nodded solemnly, "Will do." She turned, and seeing Beth greeted her after a moment of hesitance, "Oh," she said, "hi there."

Beth gave her a look, "It doesn't sound like a good idea, Amanda," she remarked as Denise left them alone. "You should wait."

Amanda huffed loudly. "Well, you didn't see him this morning…" she muttered out, "He needs to blow off some steam." She paused, "He's been having hell for days… We both have… But I stay and he goes out…" She sighed out deeply, "I can't send him to that herd like this. He needs to stay focused."

Beth gave her another look, "I saw him dealing with worse in _worse_ conditions."

Amanda's lips flattened. "He _doesn't_ need to now," she said pointedly, "I'm not Lori," she seethed out, "and I'm _not_ sending my husband off to that herd like this," she finished with finality.

Beth narrowed her eyes at her. That wasn't exactly what Beth had meant, and the way she'd brought Lori into this made Beth even suspicious more. Amanda hadn't been very specific about the details how their fight had ended up Rick telling her she would never believe he loved her because no one loved her before, but she still knew if Rick had been angry that much, Amanda had been really lost it, and Beth had started getting an inkling for the reason of it. "Okay…" Beth slowly drawled, giving the older woman another look.

Letting out another frustrated huff, Amanda turned on her heels, and walked out at the porch. Beth followed her out as she rested herself at the railings. "Can Daryl find a ring for Rick today in the woods?" she asked suddenly, out of the blue, "I want to give him one, too. I would've gone myself but—you know—" she faltered, shaking her shoulders off.

Beth nodded. "Sure," she answered, "He can go out earlier for the intersection. Will you still come to dry on?" Beth asked further.

Amanda shook her head. "No. I don't want to risk it. I can't—" She turned her eyes at Beth for a second, "I'll come with you to the intersection, though. I have to see it at least."

Beth nodded. She knew how hard it was going to be for Amanda, to stay behind, wondering if they were safe or not, going crazy with worry, worrying. No, Amanda wouldn't definitely like it. They stood together at the porch, still resting against the railings and watched the street in silence. The town was getting ready to go out to the intersection, too. Rick might get them out in an hour, so it was a busy morning. Across the yard, Beth saw Daryl walking to Jessie's house and felt a bit better about it. At the other side, the church was getting more attention too—most residents had started coming praying once they learned about the herd, and since yesterday the numbers had been growing as they'd learned more about Rick's plans. Amanda's eyes were on the church as well, but there was a frown over her eyebrows as she watched it. Spencer Monroe and Ron were getting inside through the main door, and as soon as Amanda picked them up, she frowned more. "Well, looks like Alexandria has found God," she snickered, watching the younger Monroe walk inside after Sam's big brother.

Beth held the railings, and sighed out. "We used to sit in pray circles with my dad and Maggie in the prison."

Amanda skipped her eyes at her, "Why don't you go now?"

Beth shook her head, "My dad died." She swallowed, remembering those times, remembering the girl she used to be, "The last time I prayed to God was the time Dawn threw me off of the elevator shaft."

Amanda's hand found hers, and she gave it a firm squeeze. "I made my first pray last night after a long time."

Beth turned her head aside to look at her, "What did you pray for?" she asked, wondering if she had prayed like the Alexandrian's for a miracle, too, but Amanda shook her head.

"I—I prayed Rick would forgive me and have me back after I broke up with him."

Beth smiled at her friend ruefully. "My dad—my dad would've liked to see you together," Beth told her, remembering how her Dad worried about Rick, how much he cared about him, "Rick was like a son to him," she went on, "He always wanted Rick to be happy."

Releasing her hand, Amanda turned her eyes back to the street and continued to watch the church. "Do you think I can do it, Beth?" she then asked after a little while with a small voice, "Make him happy? We talked with Carl this morning together. He said the same, too. He told Rick he wanted him to be happy. _I_ want him to be happy, too. I want to be there for him. Sometimes—I don't know if I can..."

Without hesitation, Beth nodded. "I saw you together," she said, "Before you came down the stairs with Judith. He took his arm across your shoulder and gave you a kiss as you took Judith from him. I've never seen him like that before."

"Even with Lori?"

This time Beth's hand found hers, "Especially with Lori," Beth only said back in return.

Her eyes fixated at the church, Amanda asked again, "That man—his partner—his best friend, the guy she was with together—Did Rick—did he kill him?"

Surprised, Beth turned to Amanda, dropping her hand. "How did you know?" she whispered out.

Amanda gave out a bitter smile, "Read between the lines."

"He did it for us, to protect us," Beth explained, "Shane—he lost control. He—he'd tried to kill Rick, too."

With a sigh, Amanda nodded, "I know." She lifted her neck a bit up, letting out a deep breath, and her eyes moved back to the church. "There—it isn't just a pray circle, Beth." Turning her head back to her, Beth stared at her, "Spencer Monroe—his cloth isn't of gods. He isn't a man to sit down in the pray circles, either. He's a fool, but a bold one. The last time after I saw him entering in the church, I saw him later with a gun, drawing it out at Rick." Her eyes narrowed, "They're up to something."

"What?"

Giving her another side look, Amanda smirked a bit, "Let me find out."

She turned out on her heels then and marched to the church.

# # #

"If you don't want to die," Rick shouted at the townspeople, as he put down the last walker down, "You have to _fight_. This—" he pointed at the corpse below at his feet, "This's the real world."

Resting his back against the half put up metal wall, Carter half nodded, frightened. Rick shook his head. Sometimes he didn't even know why he bothered. That man wasn't going to make it. Lot of them weren't going to make it, just because they didn't believe they would make it. Not because they lacked the training, but because they lacked the willpower to make it.

The walkers had come out of sudden out of the woods, and Rick wanted to show them the real world, the world they'd lived in—but Carter and his people—a few friends of him had just watched walker approached them, frightened and out of their minds with fear as Rick had screamed at them to fight—_do_ something, until Michonne stepped in and killed them instead before they beat Carter.

Rick tucked his own knife too, ignoring the look Michonne gave him, and took back his shovel again. He pressed the point of the shovel into the dirt and pressed his foot down at the edge, and pushed it into the earth, then noticed another set of eyes on his back too.

Twisting aside, Rick gave a look at Amanda. "What?" he asked, straightened back, and rested against the length of the shovel. His wife, his beautiful, erratic wife was giving him one of those looks, the corner of her mouth slightly turned down, indicating she wasn't quite happy what it'd happened.

Rick couldn't blame her. He _wasn't_ happy, either. He was frustrated with every kind of frustration known to mankind. Alexandrians were just being dumbasses he always known them to be, his people were giving him looks as if they were afraid he was cracking up —they all had seen Amanda's ring this morning—even Daryl had given him suspicious looks, and Judith had just decided to be a bad girl and ruined the best blowjob Rick had ever been given to. Her eyes as she'd looked at him up from his groin, his member still in her mouth flashed in his mind, and he put it aside vehemently, trying to push down the semi erection the sudden image was bringing on him—

He almost growled out, bending down to start digging again. The muscle work was good. It put away the surges of lust at least. Rick was pissed. He was damn furious with the townspeople, pissed at his own people as they kept giving him those looks, and sexually frustrated with Amanda because he couldn't have his ways with her, though it wasn't exactly her fault—and Carter—the damn man just couldn't kill a damn walker.

"They need to learn how to fight," he said, placing his foot at the edge of the shovel to stab it down again.

"Yeah," Amanda agreed as he pushed the shovel further into dirt, putting all of his weight behind it, "So what was that?" she walked closer to him, "Throwing a child into an ocean—an ocean swarming with dead sharks to teach how to swim?"

He pulled back a shovel of dirt from the hole in front of him and threw it aside. "I'm not babysitting anyone."

"Rick, honey, you can teach them." She paused, "_We_ can teach them. I—I might start my classes again, too. The girls were getting better, but we—stopped after Whitney. They need to start again too."

Rick nodded again, shoving the tip of the shovel again into the earth, "You do that. I don't have time for it."

She sighed out. Even staying out for the dry on, Amanda had still wanted to help to close the road with the rest of them, but as she couldn't do much of hard work she stayed at his neck, being damn annoying. It was worse too, because when she was _annoying_, Rick wanted to fuck her even more—a fact that made his erection hardening further. Wordlessly, Rick continued digging.

They'd already passed over the plan a couple of times in Deanne's office, but Amanda had wanted to see it in real time. She'd walked over the base they'd parked the cars and RVs at the roads and the wall they had half built around and sides of them. Her eyes wandered again, checking the blockage, "Are you sure this's really a good plan, Rick?"

Rick shook his head. "Never said it's a good one," he shot back, shoving off another spoon of dirt and tossing it off aside, "But it's the only one we got."

"What if something goes wrong, and the herd breaks up?" Amanda questioned.

"We talked about it. We'll fall back to Alexandria," Rick said, another shovel followed the last one, "We'll draw them away then from there."

"With what?" Amanda asked back, "We used all vehicles either here or at the quarry. There's nothing left at Alexandria. We don't have get away vehicles."

Rick stopped again, loosely leaning against the shovel, and wiped his sweat off his forehead with his forehead, "We'll get them back if there's a problem." He paused, taking a laborious breath in before he started digging again, "But we need them all now here."

"That's too risky."

He shrugged, diving the shovel into the earth. "Never said it's gonna be safe, either."

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Amanda bit off, and he stopped, lifting his head back at her. Straightening back, he moved closer to her, one hand still clutching his tool.

"Baby, we need to do this."

Amanda crossed her arms across her chest, "I don't like it."

He gave her a half grin, "You mean you don't fucking hate it?" he asked back.

Giving him a look, she rolled her eyes. "Well, I was being _considerate_," she shot back, letting a sigh, turning her head around, "Being supportive and whatnot, you know…being a good wife."

"Hmm mm…" Rick hummed and bent down to continue his work. It made him feel good, seeing her trying for him—struggling through this to be with him and he knew he was being just stupid but it made him feel—special again, having this from her—likewise her belief in him. He wanted to have it. He wanted to push her down at the ground—in this dirty, muddy, grass trodden, half ruined with cars and metal plates ground and fucked her until she completely gave herself to him, lost herself to him… He couldn't help it, he wanted it…

"Speaking of which," Amanda drawled out a second later, breaking over his possessive thoughts, as her hand slipped inside her pocket, and she fished something out, and in the sunlight it…glinted.

Rick stared at the ring between her index finger and thumb, "Found you a ring, too," she said, holding it out to him.

Rick kept staring at it, and lifted his head up at her, "You went out in the woods today?" he asked back, frowning.

She rolled her eyes again as he reached out and took it. "No, don't get worked up. Beth asked Daryl. He found one this morning before we came here."

"Hmm." He bowed his head and looked at the ring. It was a white gold band ring, very similar to his old ring, but a scratched script told him it was all together different, a script that put a smile at his lips, shaking his head, lustful thoughts dissipating as a warm, less fierce but affectionate heat spread over his body. "Sucker?"

She walked to him. Her eyes at his, she kissed him at his cheek. "So you'd always remember who you are, even one day I won't be there to tell you—"

Putting his finger at her lips, he stopped her, "Don't _ever_ say it. Never."

He pushed the ring though his finger, and held her hand tightly, "Thank ya," he slowly rasped out, his throat tight and burning—

Shyly, she shrugged off, running her eyes. Lust and love mixing together made it much harder to fight back his urges not to push her down at the ground, climb over her and fuck her senseless…Letting out a breath out of his nose, he moved closer to her, his eyes wandering around before they settled on hers, "I want you so much, it's killing me," he muttered at her ear.

She trembled. He put his hand at her waist. "I—I talked with Denise today, asked if it'd be safe if we do it—the other way…" She lifted her eyes up at his as his heart skipped a beat, "She said…we might try."

He stared at her, "Do—do you want to?" he rasped out.

"I—uh—you were right," she whispered back, "I—_didn't_ hate it the last time."

Closing his eyes, he hissed out of his nose, "Amanda, y-you don't have to do it because of me—" he rasped out.

When he opened his eyes, he saw her shaking her head, "No, I don't," she agreed, "But I want to. You'll be out there—dealing with this crazy shit and I want you to stay focused, Rick-" She gave him a smile, "I mean…what if a walker got a bite on you just because you were thinking of me naked…well, I'm too young to be a widow, dear." She paused, "And dying on me, leaving me dealing with aftermath… " She shook her head, smiling further, "That'd be very _inconsiderate_."

With a grunt, Rick shook his head at her, "_Right_."

She then looked at him, and chewed her bottom lip. Rick frowned, hesitation was never good news from her—and she was _really_ being considerate… "Rick, I'm gonna tell you something," she started, "but I want you to stay cool, not overreact—"

He scowled more, cutting her off, "What?"

"You—uh—might have a mutiny going at your back."

# # #

Pushing the church's door, Rick let out a grunt, stepping inside, and looked around. No one seemed to be around, and Amanda guessed they would be at the management office at the back. It was where Amanda had found her pitiful informant, Father Gabriel earlier in the day after she'd left Beth at the infirmary. The padre had sung to him what had happened, and all things considered, it didn't sound like it would be a problem… They were just talking—about the herd, Rick's plan and Deanne's latest decision, _mostly_ Deanne's latest decision. It was natural that Deanne's decision would create disturbance and discontent, but Spencer and his reckless nature worried her. So, Amanda wanted to tell it to Rick. She didn't want to keep secrets from him, there were so many stuff they kept hidden—Amanda didn't want this damn thing be one of those things.

So, he'd killed his partner. Amanda wasn't surprised. It was a hunch, more than anything, his blame, his guilt, taking everything as his responsibility—and the way he'd told her he felt he was only good for killing now, she—she got a hunch for these kinds of stuff, perhaps cop's instincts, just like Rick got his own hunches. A part of her wanted to know what happened, what had triggered him to kill the guy—she knew it wasn't just basic jealousy, Rick loved Judith as his own—no, it had to be something—just like Beth had said, he had done it to protect them—but Amanda also knew there was more to that story.

She just didn't know if she wanted to learn more or not. Sometimes it was just best not to know. She still lost her shit quickly whenever something reminded her his dead ex-wife, it was still a sore point, yes, she knew now why he loved her—because they were alike, because they understood each other, because she was the only woman in this world would call him still a sucker, but—god, it _still_ hurt—knowing Rick loved someone else—someone she looked very alike—someone he had loved first, his first love, and didn't everyone keep rambling about how first love was always special…you would always remember it?

It wasn't fair… Rick was _her_ first love. She'd never felt anything like she'd felt for Rick before. There was this guy once, the lawyer from her precinct. He used to take pro-bono cases, and they'd started talking about cases, and then started going out for drinks at the block, then started sleeping together…uh…for more than two years, but that was it. Or, so she'd thought, that was only it, only sex… They—she wasn't seeing anyone else, yes, but she hadn't seen any point of it when she had him…giving her what she wanted…and she'd always thought one night—a couple of days stands were just too…messy to deal with it… so she'd just thought they were hanging out…until one day he'd come and started talking about commitment. She—she liked the guy—she really did—but, commitment…nope. She'd said no…it was just _sex_, sorry, then refused to talk with him further, and that was the only _relationship_ she had ever had. Hardly would make the romance of the year.

Rick, at the other hand, had fallen in love, got married with her high school sweetheart, it wasn't fair. She'd accepted it—as Beth had told her—accepted his past, but it was just…she didn't know…hard. One part of her really wanted to know everything had happened between them, the other just was afraid…because she knew if she had learned she would've gotten more obsessed with it—as if she wasn't enough already. Sometimes it was really the best not to know, she thought, and shot at a look at Rick as he shook his head disgusted, closing the door behind him. Perhaps, it was really best not to know. She had wanted to him to stay calm, but Amanda was beginning to get that no amount of promise of sex would get him that.

"Idiots," he snickered, looking around, "They didn't even set up a lookout."

Amanda sighed out, her eyes wandering over the desks and the chair in the middle of the room in the prayer circle. She wondered how many had sat today and prayed for a miracle. "They're just worried people who want to talk a bit, Rick—" she said, "Not first grade spies." The problem was with that it always started like this—little, quick exchanges in front of the cooler and coffee machines, then more and more each day it became something… It always started like this, and Rick knew it, too, well.

"They should've known better than test my patience, Amanda," Rick bit off tersely. Yeah, his patience was wearing rather thin. She'd told him first they should keep it going so they would learn who was sided with who—who was opposing—who was a friend or foe—keep it under check, but Rick had said he had no time for that. He'd even bitten her head off when he'd learned how she'd managed to find out—her deal with Father—and only settled down when she'd told him she hadn't told him about that because she _forgot_—because she'd gotten a damn miscarriage.

"Let me talk first to them, okay?" she asked as he walked purposely towards the back of the church with quick strides.

In his answer, he shook his head. "I'm tired of it, so damn tired of it, Amanda. I'm trying to save this place—trying to keep them alive. I _don't_ have time for this shit!"

"Yes," Amanda agreed, quickening her pace to keep up with him, "But you're not an easy person to get on with, either, Rick. You have to give them time to adjust. I told you before. Adaptation takes time. Rome wasn't built in one day."

"I don't want to build the damn Rome!"

"You know what I mean," she shot back.

Stopping, he turned at her, "I'm really tired of this, Amanda, tired of thinking what those idiots would do and fuck things up—and get us dead…thinking how many of them do I need to kill before they stop killing themselves." He walked closer to her, and gestured with his head, "This _has to_ end."

_Sometimes I feel I'm only good for killing now… _She shook her head, "This has to end, yes," she agreed, "But it…it doesn't have to end that way. Not always. You—you're not that man."

He gave her a look, a heated one, his eyes, the clear blue turning into a glinting stone, and he took a step further and for a second, she thought he was going to push her back at the wall and started fucking her right at there—he had that look now more than ever—and it made funny things in her insides—almost left her breathless—but the moment was cut before he could do anything as the door for the management office opened and revealed the people inside.

Rick's head snapped at it, and he slowly started walking toward them as Carter and Spencer stood at the threshold, staring at him with wide opened eyes.

"You should've—uh-set up some lookouts," Rick told them, walking toward the room, as the man shared frightened looks. Amanda followed. Behind the men, Amanda could see also the Father and Ron—and somehow she wasn't surprised, either, seeing the younger boy with them again, "That was what I would've done if I planned a coup."

"We—we weren't—" Carter, the fool who couldn't even kill a walker today, said, "We were just talking."

"About what?" Rick asked, approaching them closer.

Spencer straightened his back, and looked at Rick. "About my mother's decision," the younger man answered, "Are we really supposed to fall behind you now just after what you did?"

"Just after I did what?" Rick asked, and stopped in front of them.

"Just after you pulled out a gun, threatened my mother, threatened our people, and killed someone without blinking an eye."

"So what?" Rick asked then, "You think you could do better than me? You think you'd do what I could? What _we_ could?" he asked further as Amanda stood next to him, "You would ride a bike and lead that herd away like Daryl could?" he went on, his voice a barely audible rasp now, getting even closer, his breath hissing at the younger man's face, "You would clear the path like Glenn could—would keep them straight like Abraham—would kill them with a single sweep like Michonne, would shoot them at bullseye like Sasha, would _kill_ just to keep them safe and alive like _me_—" He shook his head at them, "Do you even know what you're talking about—" he pressed on, "Do you even know how it's really outside—do you even know how it's to kill someone—" Giving out a sniff, he shook his head again, "Do you even know _who_ you're talking to?"

Amanda let out a sharp breath, knowing the men started getting to understand finally who really Rick Grimes was. She pointed at them with her head as Rick kept looking at them with that look—"Get out—" she hissed, "Get out now."

With her order, they hurried out—and Rick let them. He bowed his head as the main door of the church closed and they stayed alone. Amanda then turned and looked at Rick, and lifting his head, he looked back at her. They stared at each other for a second that felt like eons, then Amanda took a quick step and pushed him back at the door's frame, her lips already pressed at his.

His lips tasted like…sin… taste of a poison paradise, and she couldn't get enough. She was going to go to hell for this, and she was taking him together with her. Her hands went to his belt, and she started unbuckling him. Before she could finish, he caught her at the upper arms, and twirling her around, he pressed her at the door's frame on her stomach. His hands circling around, started unzipping her trousers too, and lowered them down at her hips. Her eyes caught the sight of the chairs in the circle, and the cross at the wall—and closing her eyes, she felt her panties following down—and felt Rick behind her back—angling her down to position himself, holding her tightly by the waist and forced himself inside her ass without any foreplay.

She let out a scream before he could close her mouth with his other hand, and her left one flying up, she grabbed the door's hinges tightly not to fall down—and her eyes opening, her head lifted up, she moved her eyes away from the cross at the wall toward her hand and she saw her ring, then his hand moved up from her waist and found hers, too, and held it crushing her fingers as he started moving inside her…

As he fucked her just like that as raw as an animal, Amanda looked at their tangled hands—their rings glinting in the gloom.

* * *

_A/N: So, yeah, I went *there*. Rick went bat shit crazy in a church before, massacring, so I thought it would be possible, too. Neither Amanda nor Rick are people who would've been just sunshine and rainbow because they confessed their love and got married, and they have a certain aspect of darkness with them, so, it happened. I'm trying to balance the dark and not-so-dark together, hope I'm not screwing up. I'm aware this might irk some of you, but please, don't think it as personnel, I meant no disrespect, only telling a story. Thank you._

_Taste of a poison paradise, is a lyric from Toxic, 2WEI's Toxic cover might be the theme song for Amanda and Rick. It's a fantastic cover. I mean, I couldn't imagine I would've loved a Britney song that much, and I do like her!_


	39. Chapter 39

XXXIX.

* * *

The next morning before the dawn, Amanda woke up, finding herself enfolded by Rick, his legs and arms wrapped around her tightly as they lay on their sides, his hand still holding hers. Lowering her eyes, Amanda stared at their tangled hands, the gold of their rings still glinting in the gloom.

Since they'd come back to the house and retired to their room, Amanda couldn't sleep well, and it wasn't because of the ache she still had at her back… no. Snapshots from the night flashed before her eyes—and she shook her head to shoo them away. She really must be crazy, real batshit crazy…love was driving her crazy, the way they'd fucked—unhinged, crazed, frenzied… It was a miracle she hadn't hurt herself again, starting to bleed. Sometimes it scared her—scared the shit out of her—the ferocity, the deep intensity they shared, manifesting itself the most for fighting or having sex—ripping each other apart or fucking each other out of their minds, but most of the times it made her feel like…like she was fucking up everything once again in tremendous ways. She'd wanted to calm him down, wanted to loosen him up, but instead got him bang her at the ass in a church on their feet, like she was a bitch in heat. She was doing a _fantastic_ job being a good wife, just like she'd expected. Her eyes at their rings, she let out a sigh.

Then it fucking happened again, she felt it—sobs rising out of her—her eyes welling—and before she could stop herself, she started crying—again. She was fucking hating—th—_this_!

Then she heard Rick heaving out behind her, and he whispered into her ear, "Amanda—baby—why—what happened?" he asked, dipping his head over her shoulder so he could see her.

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "I—I don't know—I just don't know…"

He nodded, tightening his arms further, "'s okay…just it let go."

The words frustrated her further—it wasn't okay! She flipped on her side towards him, "No! It's not okay," so she told him, "I screw up everything—" She shook her head again, tears openly running over her cheeks, "I can't do anything right!"

His eyes narrowed, "Amanda—what are you talking about?"

"I—I w-wanted to calm you down—instead got you fuck me in a _church_—This _isn't_ how a wife is supposed to be! I always fuck up everything."

Rick was staring at her, "Amanda—"

She cut her off, "I even managed to run down Grady to the ground in what—two weeks?" she whispered at him furiously, "Dawn kept it up more than two years!"

"Amanda! Someone died in his sleep. It wasn't your fault."

Her cries coming out even worse, she shook her head— "I couldn't even stop a fucking kick!" she sobbed between cries, folding her legs towards her legs, "Just let him kick me—I got nine-hundred-five hours of self-defense classes at the academy, I counted!"

"Amanda…"

She brought her hands over her face, "I'm good for nothing!" she cried out, "I turn everything into a mess. Why do you even love me?"

His hands held hers, and brought them down, "Hey—look at me—Amanda, look at me," he repeated when she hadn't. "You _do_ know why I love you. That bastard—that bastard—I should've stopped him even before he laid a finger on you. It wasn't your fault. Nothing was your fault. You wouldn't know Percy would've died. And…I—I did _worse_ than having sex in a church—worse things. I killed people—before we came to Grady, I killed the rest of Terminus's people in the church. We set up a trap in the church and we killed them there…" His eyes found hers, his fingers tightening around hers, "You don't turn everything into a mess. You saved Grady. Without you, we would've just stormed off the place. Without you, I would've turned into a further mess..."

Staring at him back, she shook her head, "No…no…you're—"

"I'm barely holding up," he said, cutting her off, "You make me want to be better—for you, for Judith, for Carl…for all of you. You make me…try. You tell me I'm not that man. You gave me a ring to remind me who I am." He gave her a rueful smile, "Baby, you're the best thing happened to me after a long time."

She looked at him back, swallowing, "You're the best thing happened to me _all_ in my life," she confessed.

Pulling her closer, he inhaled her scent, resting his head at the juncture of her neck and shoulder, "Baby—" he whispered out at her ear, but this time she cut him off.

"Sometimes it kills me, Rick—" she said as he lifted his head back to look at her, "knowing that you loved someone else before me—I never felt for anyone what I feel for you before—it's—it's—I don't know—I don't like feeling it—it makes me feel like—like—like I'll always be the second for you—the one you settled with because—" There again it came—and stopping, she furiously shook her head as he lifted his head from her neck. She'd accepted it, it was what it was, the truth, a fact, and she wanted to be with him, all the rest to be damned, but why the hell it still _hurt_ that much?

Rick gave out a sigh, shaking his head, too, "Amanda _please_," he told her, his voice soft and earnest, "Please. You know it _isn't_ true." He closed his eyes for a second, inhaling deeply before continued, "Yes—I—I should've put back it together with her, I wanted to make things right again... find a place where we could be safe and start again but—" He paused as she started pulling back. It was just like how she had thought—just how she'd known—another fact, she couldn't deny. Rick held her tightly as she moved back an inch and pulled her back against himself, "Listen to me, I—I loved Lori. She was my wife, the mother of my children—I—when she died, I turned into a mess, but I _never_ felt like this with her, Amanda… I would've never lost it and fucked her like I did you last night."

She flinched back, words coming at her like a whip, and pulled back from his embrace. _Of_ _course_. Lori would've never gotten fucked like _her, _on her feet, clothes still on, like she was some bitch in heat he could play his fantasies on. "_Of_ _course,_" she hissed, wiping off the tear strains over her cheeks, her crying suddenly stopping as well, "That would be only _me_, right? What's Amanda Shepherd is good for… A filthy fuck on the feet, banged at her ass. Something you could've _never_ done with Lori."

His eyes narrowing, he scowled, she could see it even in the gloom of the dusk. "Amanda," he called out at her, his voice losing the soft timber in it, "Stop doing this, stop twisting my words. You know it wasn't what I meant."

"Then perhaps you should start expressing yourself better, Rick," she shot back, "Somehow you always manage to say things you don't mean."

"Don't turn this on _me_," he warned, his scowl growing wider, "Y_ou_ came at me, Amanda," he reminded her then, "_You_ kissed me first. You told me you asked Denise if we could it at the other way, you said you wanted it. Now—you're acting out crazy again because I did what you asked…"

Fuming, she jolted up from the bed, "Yeah, lucky there's me. Lori would've _never_ let you put it that way, right?" she hissed.

He caught her because she could sweep off the bed and pulled her back on it. "Amanda—" he started but she cut him off.

"I'm going to sleep," she said, turning away from him. God—she just wanted to stop now. Why the hell she'd started this at the first place? She wanted to be with him, she just had to accept the rest. She just had to swallow the bitter pill, and suck it up, like she always did, like Beth had told her to do—It was what it was… She was what she was, too, and she was never going to apologize for being she was, and why the hell she was feeling like this?

Rising on his elbow, he placed his hand on her shoulder, "Amanda—"

She turned her head over her shoulder, "You'll go to dry on in the morning. You need to sleep, too."

"No—" He pulled her on her back, "You always do this—We're gonna talk."

"I don't want to talk," she said, huffing, "If we talk, we'll end up fighting again. I don't want to fight, Rick—I don't want to fight with you anymore. Let's forget about it."

He shook his head, "No, we won't forget about it. You _won't_ forget about it. If we don't talk it now, you're gonna press it down until you can't—then we'll have a real fight. I'm not doing it anymore, Amanda. You _will_ listen to me, and we will settle down this thing."

"Rick—"

"Shut up—" he hissed at her, "and listen to me, _listen_ to me truly. I said I never felt like _this_ with her, and I meant it. What'd happened at the church happened not because you kissed me, Amanda. It happened because I lost it. You're making me lose it—and I can't help it. You damn broke up with me in the morning, and at the _evening_ we got back together. When Lori and I used to fight, and we used to fight a lot, it used to go on for _days_, sometimes even weeks, I didn't talk, and she couldn't crack me up. With you, everything is a turmoil, but I can't stay away. _We_ can't stay apart—we either fight or fuck, but we can't stay apart. So yeah, I would've never fucked her like I fucked you—I could've never lost it that much—because, you idiot, I never felt for _anyone_ what I feel for you before, too." He paused, and climbing on her, he held her face with both hands, his eyes locked on hers, "Amanda, I _never_ loved anyone the way I love you before."

She stared at him with widened eyes—something inside her felt like—melting—and her head turning, and she hugged him fiercely, wrapping her legs around his waist— "Say it again," she whispered at him.

"I never loved anyone the way l love you, you fool," he obliged as she let out a deep sigh, her body relaxing wrapped around him—her insides melting—she closed her eyes, "Again—"

"Amanda…"

"Please…"

"You're childish…"

She paused for a second… "Yes." Another pause, "Say it anyway."

His lips as they formed a closed smile found her neck, and he pressed a kiss at her collar bone, "I never loved anyone the way I love you."

# # #

The next time they woke up, they'd turned around their places, now Amanda was laying over him, draped over half of his chest, their legs tangled with each other, as he'd found her hand again in the sleep. She smiled lazily, warm—cozy feelings returning to melt her insides—and she wondered when he woke up again, she could get him to tell her again. She wanted to hear it. God, she knew she was pathetic, childish and pathetic, but she wanted to hear it. She wanted to hear it thousands of times.

He had _never_ loved anyone the way he loved her… She was as unique as to him as he was to her. It made her feel…important like she'd never felt before, like she really _mattered_… just because who she was…like how her baby would've been—and even though, Amanda knew it was childish, pathetic, and stupid, she just wanted to have it…feel it…being important to someone.

When she'd finished things off with Michael, the lawyer she'd been seeing—he'd just—accepted it. He'd tried to call her a couple of times—but then stopped when she'd refused to talk… And it hurt… God, she was a fool, but it hurt. She didn't know what she'd expected…but wouldn't have he at least tried a bit further if he _really_ wanted to be with her?

She knew every shrink said you should never test love—and she of course knew it was again about her damn insecurities—but still… Granted, she hadn't been testing Michael, she hadn't been Rick, either, when they'd first broke up, but the fact was that Rick had come to her the morning after, biting her head, and taking off his ring whereas Michael had just let her go.

Maybe it was shrinks that got it all wrong… Testing had always worked for her, too, even with Rick, so it couldn't be _that_ bad, right?

She didn't know. This relationship stuff was very confusing, another reason why she'd always tried not to get involved with it. Amanda really _hated_ when things became…complicated. Simple, plain, and boring… it always had been her life motto.

She laughed out, her body shaking with her laughter. "Hmm…." Rick mumbled out under him, "What's funny?" he asked, his eyes still closed, but his hand started drawing patterns across her back.

She trembled as his fingertips touched her skin lightly, and shook her head. "Nothing… I just thought…" she smiled again, "I always wanted my life to be simple, plain and boring…and look at me now… we're writing a textbook case for dysfunctional relationships while going out killing monsters on a regular basis." She shook her head, "Not exactly plain and boring. You'll do some crazy shit tomorrow."

His hand moved to her hair, and started playing with it, "I know what you mean…" he muttered, then bowing his head, he gave her a look, "Can never imagine you being ever plain and boring, though."

She laughed. "I _was_. I was having the most plain and boring life you could ever imagine," she said, laughing.

He gave her another look in suspicion, skeptic, "What about—_I even asked for it _then?" he asked, "Didn't sound plain and boring…not a bit."

Blushing, she hid her face, laughing, "I—it was just sex—causal sex. Didn't mean anything."

His face turned serious. "Amanda, please, don't tell me you've never been into a real relationship before," he groaned.

She shrugged. "Relationships have never been my priority. Too much of a hassle."

"So what?" His tone hitched, "You just used to fuck people randomly?"

"No!" she answered with the same hitched tone, not liking the inclinations, "Too much of a hassle, too. No… I was just having…acquaintances with benefits."

Rick let out another deep sigh, then she continued, she didn't exactly know why, either, perhaps because she didn't like the inclinations, "There was this guy one once… a lawyer I met at our precinct. We—we were sort of together for two years. We never talked about it…I thought we were just hanging out together…two people who knew each other from work, who get drinks and sex occasionally—uh, more than occasionally…on a regular basis."

"How regular?" Rick asked.

"Um…daily?" she said back with a small voice.

Rick let out another sigh. "I _see_… What happened then?"

"Well, it was good first, then I don't know…I guess he went to a life crisis or something—he was older than me, was coming to his thirty. Anyway, one night he came and started talking about…uh… commitment…" She paused, "I said no."

"And?"

"And?" she asked back, lifting her head up.

"What happened?"

She shrugged, resting her head back on his chest, "Nothing. Called a few times later. I said I didn't want to talk. And…he stopped."

"Why you didn't want it?" Rick asked then, "Were you seeing other people, too?"

She shook her head. Tucking his head again, his eyes found hers, "Amanda, why did you say no? You were _already_ in a relationship. Why didn't want to make it…official?" He paused, "Didn't want to close the door permanently?"

"No!" she said hurriedly, shaking her head, "No…" She hadn't declined Michael's offer because she thought she could've gotten better options in the future, and it scared her Rick would've thought of her like that. "I don't know… I—I don't like when things get complicated." She paused, starting to curse at herself… Where this all had come from…? "Told you…I like things plain and boring."

Rick sighed again, "Somehow I find it hard to believe…"

To dissipate the heavy moment, she forced out a laugh. God, she could've never started this. "But I do," she told him, "Dawn used to roast me so much because she thought I wasn't trying enough…" She paused a second, and shrugged again, "Well, come to think of it, I _wasn't_. She wanted to promote me to a sergeant before the turn and was drilling me because my lack of interest."

Bowing his head again to look at her, Rick frowned, "Okay. Relationships—you weren't used to do, because it's complicated. But why on the earth you didn't want to be _promoted_?"

She shrugged, "Being a sergeant means too much responsibility. Didn't want it."

Rick gave her an incredulous look. "Amanda Shepherd, you're full of bullshit."

"I am _not_!" she objected, "I was okay with being a plain city cop. Less dangerous, too."

He shook his head. "Lamson was listening to you at the hospital, and he _was_ a sergeant. How that happened?"

"Uh—Dawn promoted me herself after the turn—I'm unofficially a sergeant, too. Lamson played along."

Rick nodded. "He was a smart guy."

"Yeah—" she paused, "Before you and Beth came, we…we were thinking to pass him in Dawn's place. You and Beth gave me leverage. Otherwise, Lamson would've never let me, nor the others."

Rick nodded again, his hand finding her back again. They stayed in silence for a couple of minutes, Judith still sleeping—the rest of the house still sleeping. After the breakfast, Rick and others will go to for the dry on, so it was a slow morning—everyone was taking a time off with their loved ones before they saw that herd—the army of dead they needed to take care—and Amanda thought for a second if it was like this today how it was going to be tomorrow—when they really let the army go— She shuddered… and forced her thoughts away from it, and asked—because she didn't want to think about that, and because well, she was still curious, and she couldn't help herself.

She just couldn't help herself. "How was it for you?" she then asked, "Lori was your high school sweetheart, right?"

In answer, though, he shook his head. "No. We met after I finished the college. We got married pretty much afterward, though. Perhaps before we knew each other, perhaps even before we knew _ourselves_." He let out another sigh. "I—probably should've wait a bit longer."

She gave him a look, "Why?" she asked then just he'd questioned her, "Why you didn't? Got afraid she would've slipped away without a ring?" she added, her tone dripping wet with sarcasm, she _couldn't_ help it, either.

Rolling his eyes at her, Rick shook his head, "I wanted to be a family." Ah, well, yes, Rick Grimes, the family man ever… He dipped his head again toward her, and gave her a smirk, "You see, I was never a lady's man before—"

She snorted, "That's _what_ I find hard to believe."

Rick smiled. "But I wasn't. It was always Shane—" He stopped and cleared his thought as her head snapped at him, "My—partner… He—he—uh—was my childhood friend. We—we were best friends."

Looking at his eyes, Amanda nodded, not knowing what else to do. "I was always the nice one, and he was the cool one. Girls…girls like cool kids more than nice ones."

She shook her head. "I _like_ nice ones."

Rick smiled at her, and played with her hair again, "I know."

There was that ruefulness in his smile, that tiredness in his eyes, and Amanda really wanted to do something—not because she had to—but because she just wanted to… seeing him like this hurt her… _Sometimes I feel like I'm only good for killing now…_ She couldn't change the past, she couldn't change what had happened, but she wanted to do _something_, not just look at him dumbfounded, feeling at lost. But she just didn't know what to do. She raised her hand at his cheek, "I'm sorry for what happened, baby," she muttered then. She could at least that, she could at least be sorry for him. It hurt her, so deeply.

Her words, though, tightened his brows. "Do you know what happened?"

She gave him a look, "I—I figured it out."

"How?" he whispered.

She shrugged, "Good guess. I—I asked Beth then. She—she didn't decline." He frowned more, "Don't get mad. It was me. I asked her."

"Why?"

She shrugged, "I—wanted to know."

He gave her a look. "Why didn't you ask me then?"

Lifting her eyes up at her, she rolled them in a way it made him exhale deeply. "We—we need to learn how to talk each other. We can't do this anymore," he slowly grunted, but with who he was annoyed more, she wasn't sure, with himself or herself.

"He—he saved me back when it started. I—I was shot during a shootout. I was at the hospital. He closed the door with a trailer when it started, and got back to Lori and Carl, and saved them before our town was overrun and the bombings started at the city. You know what'd happened then. They thought I was dead. I woke up from the coma two months later. He kept them alive and safe the whole time. I saw first a man, Morgan and his son, outside the hospital—they told me what happened. I returned to the city to see it myself, and Glenn saved me back at there when he was a supply run, and brought me back to his campy, figured out it was the same camp Shane had brought Lori and Carl too. They were all there. Things just happened after then." He gave out a deep breath, "I guess—he—he never accepted that I was back, and Lori and Carl had me now to protect them. He started thinking I couldn't protect them as well as he could—" His voice hitched again, turning sterner, his brows tightening further, his jaw setting in, "started believing I wasn't capable of— started believing they were much better without me—that_ he _would've made a much better husband and father than me." His heated eyes stared at her, "He told me good guys wouldn't make it out now. I told him I wasn't a good guy anymore."

She let out a soft sigh. Well, he wasn't exactly a good guy, but still…he was a _better_ man. "He tried to kill me. We were looking for a boy that escaped from the farm, and he brought me away to kill me. I—I talked him down. I put my gun down and told him there was still going back from his. I told him we could still go back. Then I put my knife into his heart."

She let out another sigh, "You did what you had to do."

Wordlessly, he nodded. "Lori…Lori didn't take it well. Carl—Carl had followed us and saw it too. He—he took Shane out after he turned. I—I didn't know it then, didn't know we all will come back no matter what. Lori—She pulled away…She was afraid of Shane, but when I did it…" He shook his head, his voice raising, "She—she kept talking to me _how_ dangerous he was, kept saying how he thought her and Carl as his…and but I dealt with him—she looked at me like I was a monster."

She shook her head wordlessly. "I had to…" Rick continued, "He didn't give me any choice. There was no going back from that. There wasn't. I couldn't risk it."

"Rick, baby, I know," Amanda told him through a lump her throat, understanding what her words really meant for him, _why_ he loved her… why he'd felt it since the time she'd told him she'd saved some people, too… "I know." His arms tightened around her as he stared at the ceiling.

"One day—one day those people at the church will meet someone worse, a lot of _worse_ than you, Rick, and then they will understand it, too," she continued, "I'm not looking for it." She let out a deep sigh, "It's gonna be hard." But it was coming; maybe not today, or tomorrow, but one day. There was someone out there—some bad, psychopathic sonofabitch who had just adapted this rotten world much better than them, someone worse than Gorman—a lot of worse than Gorman, because there was always something-someone worse out there—_always_. "When that day comes," Amanda said, rising her head up, "they all are gonna be thankful to you, Rick, for being the man you are. You'll see."

Bowing his head, tightening his arms further, he kissed her forehead. "You—you have to be the woman you are, too, Amanda—You can't run away from who you're. You _can't_."

She shook her head. "I'm not—"

He cut her off, "You _are_," he said, stressing out the word, "You're running away from responsibility. You can't anymore. Someone has to keep these people at the line, and I'm too worked up and Deanne is too idealist. You—you are our middle ground. And you got a natural talent for it."

"For what?" she asked, frowning.

"For politics."

She snorted, "Don't insult me."

"Deanne wants to write down a constitution—"

"I know," she cut him off.

Rick nodded. "Yes, of course." He paused, and continued with a clear voice, "When this end, three of us will sit down, and start making rules. This can't go on like this." He paused again, "And I'm gonna teach them, teach 'em all how to kill a damn walker, too."

She laughed out loud, "Rick—don't tell me you've started to believe in these people."

"I believe in _us_," he told her seriously, "I made you a promise, Amanda, and still intending to keep it. This is going to be our home. For all of us. Remember? This's where we get to the living."

Her chest tightened so much for a second it was hard to breath. She lifted her eyes up at him, "I love you so fucking much."

He smiled at her again, "Say it again."

"I love you so—" she started but couldn't finish because his lips were already at hers.

# # #

Before the noon, Amanda watched them leave for the dry on, standing on the platform with Deanne. Beth was riding with Daryl on his back as Sasha had decided to join up to Abraham to follow them. The others were divided in three cars as Rick had assigned to them different jobs, leaving them all without any easy get away. Rick and Glenn's groups were going to deal the walkers at each side of the woods as Daryl and his team lead them away. There were going to clear out the last spot Glenn had discovered would be a problem on the road on the way back, so then, everything was going to be ready.

Funny enough, Amanda felt no panic…like…like it was just something else they needed to do before they got to the living part. And they could do it… she felt it—the belief—the blind, certain belief—they could do it…because Rick believed it. It filled her insides like a warm summer sun—melting her again—like inside her something—something she wasn't even aware had been frosted before was melting, and turning to Deanne who was staring ahead with a worried look, she smiled at the older woman.

"Everything was going to be okay," Amanda told her, "We got this."

Everything was going to be okay. They were going to be okay. They were going to sit down and talk, and were going to put this place into a shape—safe and secure, and Rick and her—they were going to have another baby… it made her…disturbed, like she was replacing her lost baby with another one, but she wanted to have a baby—she still wanted to have Rick's baby—be a family—and lived, together, all of them. _That_ was a living.

They stayed at the watch post, watching the outside the world, the world that tried to hurt them, but Amanda felt—courageous she had never felt before.

She could do this. They could do this…

Then she noticed it… Two running figures towards them, running like hell—then she recognized the sunshine hair… "Beth!" she yelled out up from the post, and ordered at Spencer who was at the guard duty— "Open the doors!"

She started climbing down the ladder as Beth and Maggie stepped in the gate. "What happened?" she asked, eyeing the blood stains over their shirts.

"It—it's happening now," Beth told her out of breath, words coming out of difficulty, "The truck that blocked the passage has gone off the edge. They're doing it now."

Amanda lifted her neck up, and stared at ahead… She shook her head. She never learned her lessons, never.

* * *

_A/N: Oh dear god, I just made a Negan reference, yes! Feel pretty evil :)_

_And they passed a whole chapter in the bed, actually talking about past. I was planning to do this talk for a long time-felt good it was finally happened too, besides some building up was necessary before the army of the dead arrived at our doorsteps. The next chapter will have Rick's awesome "This's an insane world" speech, something I really liked a lot at the show!_

_Hope you're still with me, reading and enjoying._


	40. Chapter 40

_A/N: Hey, totally unrelated topic, but did you hear the tapes for Amber Heard and Johnny Depp...? I swear I thought I was listening to Rick and Amanda having a fight in a possible future when Rick pulls back, and Amanda starts throwing stuff at him, haha. And I swear, I was thinking making them having a relationship couching with Denise later in the story, to "talk" their problems, but wasn't knowing how I could get Rick to sit down in one... Hah! Now I really had to do it! And seriously, how relationships are always the same. I swear I found myself telling exact things for many, many times over the years. Even being Hollywood stars don't change it, I guess. Lol._

* * *

XXXX.

"I know it sounds insane," Rick bellowed out on his stand at the stone ridge of the cliff, where the army of the dead had crammed beneath their feet in the bowel, buzzing like a rotten, decayed beehive, "but this is an insane world."

The look over their faces told him it was more than that, _worse_ than that, but Rick couldn't have them scarred right now. That was the whole point of this dry on, to show them, make them see how it was going to be tomorrow so they couldn't render at speechless at the nightmarish scene, much like they were now.

No. They had to do this. They needed to do this, then got to the living. All of them. He'd made a promise. "We have to come for them before they come for us," he continued with a certainty that made his voice raise higher, resolute, waving his arm behind at his back at the chasm where the hundreds of the dead had been gathered over two year, "It's _that_ simple."

And it was. It was either them the living, or those monsters, the death. His eyes skipped across the valley and looked at the east side of the valley, where two other trucks had blocked the way at the same fashion at the west side where they stood now, with one difference that changed all. That path led to Alexandria. One of the trucks was still teetering at the edge, and even looking at it, was making his mind more determined.

They had to do this, before that truck slipped down and opened the way to Alexandria, they needed to do this. It wasn't a what if scenario, it was a when. It was that simple, as well.

Looking at his people, Rick went on explaining the plan further. They all had their assignments, and each detail had to be understood clearly and performed without mistakes. The success of the plan was depending on it. "Tobin hops off the truck," he motioned at the older man with his head as his arm pointed at the truck, "catches up with his team at red, and they stay on the west side of the road—" He turned to Daryl, "Daryl gets on his bike. Abraham, Sasha, and Beth follow him."

As he spoke, he saw the younger woman grasped Daryl's hand, nodding her head. Daryl was still looking not happy Beth was accompanying him, and Rick could understand. If Amanda had been here, he would've felt the same, the notion of her being out in the danger irked him, he hadn't let Carl come even though his son had almost begged him, but then again if Amanda hadn't gotten the miscarriage, and hadn't been still bleeding, Rick still knew he would've needed her here. They needed all capable fighters they could get. Beth was becoming a good one as well, a fact the younger woman had proved repeatedly.

"Glenn, Maggie, and Michonne will have the barricade—" A deep, roaring rumble cut his directives, reaching out to them from the other side of the quarry as a heavy dust raised, screening their sight. His body straining, Rick quickly twisted aside towards the roaring noise, and watched as the truck that had been tottering at the edge across them slowly descend over the cliff, on the jammed walkers down at below, smashing them all the while opening the road for the east… for Alexandria…

There was a stunned silence among them first, only that deep, roaring thunder as the truck fell, widened eyes watching the scene like they were all frozen in the moment, even himself, too shocked to speak as it hit the bottom. It hit him like a punch at his side. Rick jumped from his stone perch, "It's open!" he yelled.

It was open! It was damn open! Just the time they'd gotten here, the truck had fallen. Once again, Rick thought if it was just bad luck or a blessing, they—they still had so much to do—so much to go over, he—he needed to show them all. They couldn't tolerate any mistakes, not now, not with this, but still… it was a blessing.

_If_ they hadn't been here… If they hadn't been here and that truck had fallen—it'd never been a what if, it was always a when…and it was _now_.

His resolves straightening back, he turned to his people— "We gotta do this NOW!" he yelled, running to them, "We're doing it now!" He waved his arm at Tobin, "Tobin's group, get moving, go!" he ordered at the older man, pointing at the trucks in front of them blocking the way. "Pull the truck, open the exit!"

They had to open the path from this side like _now_. They had to draw them away from the east—from Alexandria… from _home_. His mind went away—towards Carl, Judith, Amanda… and he stopped dead for a second. They didn't even know! They had to. This was just supposed to be a dry on but if they had to do this now, Amanda needed to know. They need to be prepared. If they fucked this up, they couldn't stay there clueless like lambs waiting for the slaughter until walkers arrived at their doorsteps.

His eyes skipped to Beth, then he knew his solution. He turned to the blond young woman but before he could speak to her, Carter moved up at him, "Rick, we're not ready!" the man cried out at him, frightened and panicked, "We can't do this now!"

Shaking his head at him, Rick passed by at the man, walking to Beth and Daryl. "We got no options!" He stopped at Beth, "Beth, you gotta get back and warn Amanda. They need to know it's happening now."

Beth started protesting, but Rick shook his head, "Take Maggie, too, we need to warn them—" he fixed a look at her, "Go!"

"But—"

"Man's got a point," Daryl came in, standing beside her, "They gotta know!"

"Maggie—" Rick yelled, turning aside for the bigger sister, "You go with Beth. Move. Glenn, the tractor factory," he continued, pointing at the other man, "We gotta clean it out. It gotta be quiet."

That tractor factory was the last place hadn't been still cleared out. They were going to do it while their way back on. Glenn nodded. "We got it. We'll meet you at the woods." With a look at Maggie, Glenn started running with Heath and his team. Rick glanced at Daryl and Beth as Michonne took the position at the other side of Daryl, forming up the defense line as Abraham and Sasha got in the car.

They were all ready, "Beth—Maggie, move, now," Rick shouted at them as they still staggered around, and shot a look at Daryl, "Daryl, get ready," Rick ordered at him, falling back away from them, his voice ringing in the air clear and high, the snarls and groans from the walkers coming closer and closer with each moment he kept screaming… Good.

"Rick—" Carter started again, but twisting aside slightly, Rick cut the man off.

He grabbed his collar and pulled at the man at his face. That was "This _is_ how it's being outside," he sneered at the man, his voice pitched, and releasing his grip, he pushed the man an inch back, "If you want to go, go. We _are_ finishing it off," he told the man determination turning his voice to a stone.

He drew out the flare gun off his belt, walking away from Carter, "Get ready to hit the flares!" he ordered for the last and stationed himself at the back as walkers started tearing themselves apart to pass through the trucks toward them, buzzing and bursting, almost like aroused, agitated to reach them.

No. They could not let that happen. _He_ could not let that happen. He was _not_ going to let that happen. Alexandria _was_ their home. Where they'd get to live, where he was going to put it back together. For all of them.

"They're heading for home," Rick shouted. "We don't have a choice." They did _not_. "Tobin, at my signal!" he bellowed out, his mind wired determined, rising his arm up in the air as the truck's motor started, waiting for his command.

Then Rick roared up at the sky, lowering his arm, "NOW!"

It was insane, doing this—like this, without any real prep, it was more than insane, but if he had to do insane for keeping their home, Rick knew he was going to do it, as well.

He could do anything for his family. _Anything_. It was simple as that.

# # #

To say that Amanda was shocked would be an understatement… "What happened?" she cried out, looking at Beth and Maggie still in front of the gates, "_How_?"

"The truck at the edge—" Beth answered breathless, "It—fell. Rick was walking us through it, telling us how it was gonna be—then it just—fell." The younger woman shook her head, and sighed out, "Rick sent us to warn you."

Amanda nodded as panic started rising in her, too. They weren't ready. Goddammit! It was supposed to be tomorrow. They were supposed to have a whole day to get ready, get ready the town, get ready themselves. But then again, when they were ever that lucky. The best laid plans of mice and men…they often—no—_always_ went awry, it was another fact she knew by heart.

But Rick was always adaptable, always.

"It's okay," she told them then, pushing the panic away, keeping her voice clear and certain, "They got this," she assured them with a certainty she didn't feel quite herself. But she had to stay coolheaded and focused, much like how she always wanted Rick to be…a leader always had to stay coolheaded and focused…

A leader…? That was what she was now? She never wanted to be one, never wanted to lead anything… She'd taken the hospital, because she'd had to, otherwise Dawn would've run the place down the ground and O'Donnell and Lamson should've never given that kind of responsibility, that was how she'd always thought, why she'd done what she did but Rick had told her to be the woman she was and take the responsibility, and perhaps it was the time she started heading the words. She always ran away from responsibility. Much like every other time, Rick was right again.

It scared her—being responsible for anything—making decisions…taking risks, and what if she decided wrong and screw up everything, like she usually did…? A life as a plain city cop was so much easier, a life she only did what was needed, only did what she was told to… whenever she tried to take matters in her hands, they usually ended up getting screwed… Joan, Grady, Whitney, Noah…

But Rick needed _her_ now, needed her to keep this people at line, needed her to keep their home safe and secure. And Amanda didn't want to disappoint him. He believed in her, he _loved_ her, loved her the way he'd never loved anyone before, and they were going to be a family, all of them, together. She was still not sure if she could do it, but if Rick believed it—believed _she_ could do it, and it made her believe it as well. Maybe she was really getting courageous, fearless. It felt strange, though. She'd always been wary—always looking for shadows at the corners. It felt weird but maybe it was because she'd never felt like this before.

Then she had realized what was really that thing had made her feel like something was melting in her insides like she was under summer sun—that feeling— for the first time in all of her life, she was feeling truly loved just for being who she was.

"It—it was insane," Beth almost gasped, bringing Amanda back to the present, "It was just insane."

Amanda looked at them, steeling her mind, hushing the dubious little voices in her mind. She was _not_ going to disappoint Rick. "Rick will deal with it," she assured them again, her voice getting even more ascertain, "This is a blessing," she continued, giving them a look, "If they weren't there today looking out and that truck fell—we would've been screwed," she told them, because it was also truth.

It was still a blessing, their good fortunes. It couldn't be just a merry coincidence. God, or a higher being—or _something_ still wanted them to live… "We do our part, too." She turned to Spencer, "Spencer, get back to the watch tower. You won't come down from there no matter what. Walkers still might come—some of them _will_ come. We will need to deal with them if it happens."

Spencer nodded and Amanda watched him quite with satisfactions heading her words and left without any word. She couldn't get any acting out from the bold, fool man right now. She turned to Beth and Maggie. "Go find Rosita. We need more watch out points." She turned around, looking around the town, "Everyone should get a gun too in any case. The town's divided in four sections, for each part we need to stash weapons as well for emergencies."

"Why?" Deanne asked, frowning.

Well, maybe God or something still wanted them to live, but they wouldn't do it with pray circles. "We need to be ready for a fight. If we got cornered, or walkers overrun, or something, and if we couldn't get to the armory, then we're doomed."

When Grady had overrun, her first reaction had been getting to the armory. Without weapons you could only survive this world so long…not only because of walkers, as well. As Beth and Maggie already knew it, so they nodded, too. "Yeah."

Amanda nodded back, "Let's move," she told them, turning on her heels, but just before they started walking away from the walls, a scream came up from the platform, from a man Amanda didn't know his name for sure, once again she had realized, and her eyes widened she watched the man burst into flames and fall down…

Then another Molotov cocktail hit at the platform and Amanda knew it.

_COME ON!_

"The Wolves!" she shouted, "Take cover!" she screamed, pulling Beth under her as she threw herself under the platform, pulling back her gun with her other hand.

So much for higher beings wanting them to live… She should've known. She really never learned her lessons.

And it was just never ending… never.

# # #

At the intersection behind the barricade they had erected to close the road at Marshall and Redding, Rick stood with Michonne. Glenn and his team were returning from the factory and Tobin's team was already at the west side of the woods ahead so it was only two of them now, waiting for Daryl and his parade arrive. A tensed feeling was stretched out in the silence between them, and Rick wasn't sure if it was because of the moment or something _else_.

Since they'd arrived at the barricade, they had barely spoken to each other, only for a few quick directives for a few times, heads kept up, staring ahead. Then Michonne's eyes skipped at his hand and she glanced at his ring—but without saying any word, she turned back and continued to look ahead.

Rick almost sighed out.

He didn't want to things be like this with Michonne. Michonne was a part of his family too but he also knew Amanda was right, there was that—that…thing between them, and Rick was starting to get the idea that it had to finish. Michonne would play it along, but Amanda would _never_. But it still disturbed him. Michonne and him—they'd been through a lot. She'd saved him more than once, she was his family, but his wife was what she was.

He could see it much clearer now, how she'd wanted to keep things plain and simple for herself, building herself a cage not to get hurt, even running away from responsibility but her walls had crumbled down, and Amanda was having problems with managing her emotions now, she was oscillating between breaking up with him at the morning and begging him to make her his wife at the evening, waking up crying in his arms and picking up a fight the next moment. Rick needed to keep her…coolheaded, as well, like she wanted him to be, and he knew so long as this platonic thing between him and Michonne stayed, sooner or later, sooner than later Amanda would lose it again.

And Rick didn't want that. He wanted her like last night, feeling enough secure and loved to open up to him the way she had, sharing a part of her old life. He'd never loved anyone before the way he loved her, he had never lied to her, never, everything with her was turmoil but he couldn't help himself. Every time he'd thought of slowing down, Rick had taken it a step further; he was losing it, _too_, fucking her like that in the church…

And he was really losing it, because he'd _really_ started thinking of her naked instead of the army of dead approaching him…just as she had been scared of… He shook his head, turning his mind back to the present, facing at the wall. He stared at it, slowly muttered, "It'll hold."

Michonne nodded slowly, "Yeah." She paused, giving him another glance, and it looked like she wanted to add something more but the low rumble of the bike reached out to them, snapping her out of it.

Rick approached to the peek hole between the plates and saw Daryl at the curve, slowly taking it as the red car of Abraham and Sasha followed him, leading the parade towards them. "They're coming," Rick warned her, getting back, pulling out the flare gun in the meanwhile. He raised the gun, started shooting up flares to draw walkers towards them as Michonne followed his example.

The first impact of the walkers crashed into barricade in a few moments later. They waited in silence as the plates shook, trembled, and groaned, but held back. The rest of the dead then followed, bangs and thuds crashing heavy on the metal, groaning, and the snarls and growls of walkers kept coming as they slowly took the curve, and Rick listened to them his heart beating at his throat.

It had to hold—for their family, for all of them… it had to work. They still had so much to…live. They wouldn't…die.

With the last part of the walkers passed through, and the noises they made dwindled, Rick started breathing regularly again. Turning away, they rushed into the woods to find the rest of them.

Through the woods he could see the walking parade of the dead, following up Daryl and Sasha and Abraham. Before they made to the green rendezvous point they finally met up with Glenn and Tobin's party in the woods.

"It's working—" Carter remarked looking at him, bafflement in his tone, sounding…surprised, "You were right. We did it."

"We got no choice," Rick only said back in return, like he'd already told him before. In his times in the war, when Rick asked him how he could endure it, his grandfather also used to say that a man could do, could bear most anything when he had to, an example Rick had also started to follow by his heart.

The man extended out his arm, a look of appreciation over his face, and Rick thought perhaps Amanda was right. Perhaps they finally understood they should be glad to have him for being the man he was. Rick took the offered hand and they shared a brief hand shake before he broke it to wave them over around him.

They'd managed it so far, but it wasn't finished yet. Not until they herded them to the green for letting them to Daryl and his escorts for the rest of the way.

"Okay, everyone, listen up," so he started as they formed up a circle around him, "We need to finish this. We have to keep moving and fan out down that thing front to back. Like we talked, cops at a parade." They all nodded. "Glenn, you take the back. You got the other walkie—" Glenn nodding, started moving his group, taking the radio from him. "Tobin, you take the front. Others—" His gave fell on Carter briefly, "You're with me. If it gets sloppy, we fire our weapons and pull them back on the track."

They all nodded again, "Okay, move out. Eyes open. Stay alert."

The flare guns kept firing at the line, just like Rick had ordered, keeping the herd on the track—a few times a few walkers broke the line and each time Michonne or he dealt with it before it could cause problems, protecting their defense line, and it was so close now to the green, where the ditches along the road would have protected them from any returning herd—it was so close, they were almost there…

"We did it!" Carter let out a laugh of joy, leaning against a tree, "We really did it!"

Another of his friends came next to him, resting his back against the tree as well to catch at his breath. They'd all been running like hell for almost an hour now, Rick could feel the sweat running down across his back, plastering his shirt over his body, his hair wet with perspiration as well. Nodding, Rick moved his arm where he rolled up sleeve of his shirt left his skin open and wiped off his forehead.

They were almost done. Just as the moment the thought came to him, something—a slight of movement caught his attention with the corner of his eyes, turning aside, he grabbed the walker's neck that suddenly appeared next to him out of nowhere, and stabbed him at the head.

Carter was staring at him with wide opened eyes as Michonne dealt with another two with a sweep of her bleed, and Rick turned to them, "Let's go."

Before they moved again, thought, Carter's friend, suddenly started screaming as another walker got him at his face, ripping off his neck just in front of Carter's face. "Carter!" Rick snapped at the man as his face turned ashen, his friends howling in agony, getting eaten up— "Carter, kill him!"

His eyes flicked at Rick for a second then finally he moved, raising his hand, and stabbed the dead in the head wobbly. They both fell on their knees at the ground, and Carter started vomiting.

Rick rushed to the bitten man's side, and holding him, he brought his hand over mouth as a few walkers had already broke in. Michonne moved away from them to deal with them again as Rick lowered his eyes at the man. "You gotta keep quiet," he warned the man as his other hand went to his knife again.

They got no choice. Carter was looking at him now, straightened back—and Rick knew the man had finally understood how it was being out there—doing _this_… Looking at his face, Rick stabbed the bitten man back at his head.

Pulling back at his feet, he wiped the blood off over his jeans and sheathed his knife back at his belt. They did it, they were going to do it, but not all of them was going to see it. And that fact now was clear in the eyes of the group, the realization of the world they lived, the real world, dawning on them. If you slipped off even for a tiniest of second, you were dead. It only took a second, only a second between life and death.

Rick gave them a brief look before nodding away again, "We need to finish this," he told them again. That was what important. They needed to finish this. At any costs. "Get moving," he ordered flatly before he turned on his heels and started moving away.

Just before he walked a few feet away, another high-baritone voice echoed in the air, and Rick turned to see who was again screaming this time—who had lost that second—who had gotten bitten but a second later he understood it wasn't screaming.

No. No one was screaming. It wasn't even sound like a voice, it was too mechanic, sounded like… "It's…it's like a horn!" Glenn supplied for him, his eyes wandering around.

Then everyone panicked. His radio cracked, "Rick, what's that sound?" Tobin cried out from at their point, "Walkers-they're breaking the line—!"

Rick started running over the road to check it. They were—they were leaving the road, but not towards them—no, they were going toward the other side…towards east…towards…home.

"It's coming from home!" Glenn shouted as he understood the same as the mean time Rick screamed at the radio, "Tobin, hit flares and guns with all you got. Pull them back here!" He drew out both flare gun and his Colt Python at the same time and stared firing them, his mind a maelstrom, fear and worry turning his stomach to stone cold.

Something had happened back at home, something had happened, and walkers were coming, too.

# # #

"It's Wolves," Amanda repeated behind the platform, as Maggie pulled Deanne underneath as well, "It's them—" She saw a man tumbling down from the walls with ladder ropes, and she shook her head… Just as the moment she had decided to keep this place, they got attacked.

There was no bitter irony now in her, it just steeled her determination. She was not going to let this happen. She was not. Not this time. She was getting bored every time she tried to be something _more_, something else happened too. Grady overran when she decided to lead, the church got overrun when she just decided to stay, trusting Rick, Whitney and Noah died just when she started believing she could protect them—no, she wasn't going to let that happen again.

What if Rick returned and found Alexandria burned down while he was doing all those insane things to keep them safe. No. He'd said Alexandria was going to be their home—where they got the living, where he put it back together, where they could be a family—

Family!

Her heart stopped.

Carl and Judith!

She pulled back at her feet. She needed to find Carl and Judith! If something happened them… while she was here—and Rick came back—No… no… She shook her head… "I need to find Carl and Judith," she told Beth, taking a cover against the other side of the platform's leg, checking out the yard behind the gate. She found more than a dozen men already inside the perimeters, jumping down from the ladder ropes… rotten men with rotten flesh, and with rotten heart.

She remembered Shirewilt, trembling, then shook her head. No. That wasn't going to be the fate of Alexandria. Not their home. She turned to Maggie and Beth, "You go to armory," she told the sisters, "They don't have guns. We must stop them before they find the armory and take the guns." Her eyes skipped to Deanne, "You stay here and hide."

The older woman shook her head, "No. I want to help!"

"Then hide! Cover yourself." Amanda snapped. Beth and Maggie both had guns. And they knew how to fight. Deanne didn't. "Protect as much as you can, but our priority first is the armory," Amanda told them. She knew it was awful, but it was just what it was, if they lost the armory, they lost it, as well, and she felt like a hypocrite too, going to find Judith and Carl as sending them to the armory, but she just couldn't let them alone. She just couldn't. Carl might have protected himself, if he had to, Rick had raised his son good and well, but if Judith was alone with Carol or someone else…

No, she couldn't risk it. She just could not. If it was selfish, even it was hypocritical she didn't care. She just had to protect the baby girl… She couldn't lose her, either… she just couldn't.

Without waiting for them, Amanda started running towards the house. She killed two men just before they had sliced a woman's—another woman she didn't know her name—guts, and briefly paused over their dead bodies. Everything around her was in chaos, Molotov cocktails burning the town—and Amanda ducked and ran as the police officer as she was all the while. She gunned down another just in front of their house before she rushed inside—and climbed the steps for their room hurriedly. Her heart at her throat, she opened the door and found Carl and—Enid sitting in the middle of their room, their backs at each other, a gun in Carl's hand.

Amanda felt relief washing over her body as she looked at them, breathing out loudly, and offered a silent prayer to whomever was listening out there above—and prayed for the suspicious nature of Rick Grimes leaving a gun for his son while he was away.

For a second, her eyes caught at the disheveled bed where Rick and she had fooled around in the morning after they were done with talking—the rumbled sheets, her clothes still at the ground—despite everything a heat raised over her neck as knowing that Carl had seen it—she moved her eyes from it, and found Carl. "Carol brought me here to look for Judith," the boy explained, "she's got a gun. She's going to armory."

Great minds think alike, Amanda told to herself, and nodded, "Beth and Maggie too. They just came back—"

"Why?"

Amanda shook her head, Carl didn't know what was happening now, not when they were attacked. "Nothing. I wanted to check on you." She moved toward the cot, and bending she took the little baby girl in her arms and hugged her tightly, her gun still in her hand.

The feel in her arms made her almost cry with relief, that baby smell in her nostrils, and she bowed her head and placed her nose into Judith's soft hair, breathing her scent deeply—Judith started wheezing, Amanda slowly shook her head, "It's gonna be okay, darlin'… Mommy will keep you safe, don't worry…" she murmured into her hair.

She was… She would die before anything would happen to Judith.

It was clear like a crystal in her mind, so simple, so unequivocal, like it'd been always there from the start—from the first time she'd asked Rick to accept to give the little baby to her arms at the barn— Judith was _her_ baby girl… she was her feisty little baby angel, getting cross whenever she was in the mood—pulling hair and all, just like Amanda… She kissed the baby's soft sunshine hair and swore to herself she was going to do everything—anything to protect her, her little baby cub.

She gently placed the baby back in the cot. A lioness always protected her cubs from other predators. She knelt in front of Carl and Enid, "I need to go to armory, too. You stay here. " She looked at Enid, "Do you have a gun?" she asked.

The girl shook her head. Turning her gun in her palm, Amanda extended the handle of her gun to the girl, "Take it."

"But—it's…it's—"

Amanda cut her off, "It's okay. I'll handle it. Got my knife." She fixed her eyes at them, "Protect yourself, protect Judith. Shoot at anyone that steps inside this room—don't ask question, don't ask anything. Just shoot at the head." Her eyes bore at Carl's, and the young boy nodded. Amanda leaned further and hugging him with one arm, she briefly brushed her lips over his hair too and pulled back before the boy would say anything. She stood up, "Stay sharp, stay safe."

With that, she turned on her heels, and stalked out of the room, taking her knife in her hands.

She started moving toward north of the town where the pantry was—and then saw fires at that direction. She closed her eyes with a hiss and started running, from one house to the another, carefully staying out of the sight, her back against the houses' walls—she killed two other men and a woman, sneaking up on them behind, slitting throats—as silent and deadly as a lioness, moving along at the north, the wall at her left… She could still see it, she wanted to see it… They still needed to keep a close watch on it and she wondered what the hell Spencer was doing at the bell tower—and she heard it—the whipping sound in the air from the sniper shot—she lifted her head and saw Spencer taking a shot…then she heard another thing too as metal planks rumbled and trembled at her left side violently, and she watched as something hit at the wall from outside with a loud bang.

Then a horn-a horn of a vehicle, like a truck, screeched in the air.

Amanda swore out loud. "Shit!"

She started running to the wall, then stopped dead at her tracks when a big, sinewy with muscles man cut her path. "Little pretty girl—" the man hissed between ragged, yellow, decayed teeth, his face so covered with dirt and mud it wasn't possible to see his features, his hair caked and plastered at the sides of his face.

Amanda clutched the handle of her knife tightly as the man smiled down at her, eyeing her with a saucy smile that turned bile in her stomach, "Little pretty girl—" he repeated again, his smile growing wider, the horn blaring in the air.

"Move away," Amanda ordered firmly, standing her feet apart in defensive position.

In answer, he only smiled more. Amanda eyed the man again. She was more than twice at her size, perhaps in thrice, his torso broad and muscled—and Amanda briefly wondered how he could manage to stay that way in two years in the wild at the end of the world. The implications didn't calm her down.

In a fair fight, she didn't have a chance against him. She had to be smart, played her hand well. Things could have been a bit easier if she didn't have a miscarriage a week ago. If they started fighting, she would've started bleeding again.

_Every time you start bleeding, your chances for another pregnancy lowers down a bit further,_ she recalled Denise's words, something in her piercing, and she remembered Judith, she remembered Carl, she remembered Rick.

He believed in her, trusted her—trusted her to keep their…home safe, and she was going to do it, no matter what. It was simple as that. Rick was _not_ going to return and find only ashes and death. She _would_ die before she let that happen!

"It could be easier for both of us if you just _leave_," she bit off to the man, starting circling him, the sounds of honking still in her ears, her voice raised above it, "If you stay, you're gonna die."

The man laughed, "You're brave for a little girl." He paused, his eyes following her, "If you stay, you're gonna cry," he told her back.

Amanda stopped for a second, not because of the words, but because she saw the backpack the man had over his shoulder, "Where did you find that backpack?" she asked, her voice rough, and she knew the answer even before the man's smile twisted further, shaking his head at her.

"The little man cried too when we found him—" he answered.

Anger swept over her like a wildfire, "What did you do to him?" she shouted.

"We saved him," the man said back, "We set him free."

Sick, it was sick, she couldn't even understand what the words meant… Amanda had seen that backpack before-before Aiden and his team had gone for the supply run, she had seen it hanging over Nicholas's shoulder… Her voice raised higher, "Is it how you found us? You found Nicholas?" she questioned.

The man shook his head, "Names ain't no importance, he was a little one. We set him free."

She had to be smart… she couldn't fight like this… She had to… her thoughts stopped dead as with a scream, the man charged at her. With an arm he caught hers with the knife, with the other he grabbed at her mid-section and shoved her down like she was nothing.

She screamed as she hit the ground at her side, and her eyes flashed with pain as he hit her at her stomach with the side of his foot. She dropped the knife down, pain inside her legs sent a surge through whole body, cutting her half inside, and shutting her eyes tightly, she folded herself—the man grabbed her at the hair and slammed her down the ground again—and Amanda felt wetness between her legs—and she knew what that meant… Judith, Carl, Rick, they all flashed over her eyes, and opening her eyes over the tears of pain, she saw another kick coming at her. She caught it before it crashed at her, and raising her on her knees with determination set in her face, she punched forcefully at his crotch.

The wolf man doubled over, crying with pain and quickly raising at her feet, ignoring the pain and blood running over her legs, she buckled down and slipped under him against his back, and using the momentum and her own back as leverage, she flipped him over her shoulder back on the ground.

The man shouted with pain, and his eyes widened, caught unprepared— "I'm not a little girl, you fucking moron!" she hissed between her teeth, holding his wrist, and swirling over his body, she wrestled with him on the ground for a tight grip, straddling him. He moved back, punching her at her side.

She howled with pain again, feeling blood running out of her even faster, and her head started feeling dizzy—but she didn't let him go—she clenched his neck with her legs as he started moving—her back arching with him, still not letting him go.

His fist punched at her again, and she heard herself letting out wails, but still didn't let him go—she could never—never… She could do this, she could do everything for her family, to keep them safe—

Gathering every ounce of strengthen she could find in herself, she tightened her legs, pain cutting her half, her blood painting his dirt covered face red—Amanda lifted her neck and screamed, her voice screeching over the blares of the horn— and his hand reached out and found her neck too where he crouched between her legs, and started choking her, too. Her hands flew over at his hand, holding his wrist— She felt elevated, her back arching even further from the ground, and she closed her eyes, her hands still at his wrist, and over her closed eyes, she saw Rick together Judith and Carl, and herself with them… Alexandria… their home… where they were going to be a family. All of them.

She let out an inhuman scream through his grip, tightened her hips and twisted.

She heard the twig of breaking bone, just before she slumped back down on the ground… She crawled back away from the dead body like a snail, lay there sprawled out on the ground, trembling, and stared at the sky, at the shining sun, the horn of the truck still blasting in her ears… pain cutting her in half, her legs wet and sticky with her blood—

Then she cried.

* * *

_A/N: I feel bad, but, I love sacrifice theme in stories, and I was so waiting for this part for Amanda, making her choose to sacrifice her chances for having a child-a clear theme for leaders in any story, too. I wrote this part of the story with Serpents from the show, the song they used when Rick left Carol back at Season 4, and somehow it set the mood for me perfectly. I was listening to that song while making them fighting scenes, and I think that song works very nice for them, too. I kinda can't decide which is better, Toxic or Serpents. :)_

_I know Rick's parts with the herd had a little change from what actually happened at the show, but it was so good at the show, I didn't want to change it much, but instead chose to focus on his mental state._

_Hope it was good, and you've enjoyed it._

_Please, review, and tell me what you think, in these days, motivation means a lot for me! (Real life is hectic)_


	41. Chapter 41

XXXXI.

They were running back to Alexandria like whole hell was on their heels. They'd met up with Tobin's group five minutes later deeper in the woods and earned themselves almost a quarter of an hour running ahead of the breaking herd.

Half of the herd—half of the herd had broken off, following the damn horn still blasting in the air. Their first response was to flight and put some distance between themselves and walkers—and Rick knew soon they had to stop and think and decide what to do next.

Rick shook his head, running at his fastest speed, ahead of his whole team, Michonne and Glenn at his back as they kept the front line safe and secure for the rest of them, killing astray walkers that popped out at their way. The horn in his ear was like a nail through his temples, cutting his head in two. The damn thing—the damn thing was killing him, couldn't let him think straight. And he had to. He had to stop and goddamn think! He just couldn't—not before they got between themselves and the herd at least a whole fifteen minutes.

They just didn't have time yet.

Someone from the back of their line tripped over some root at the ground and fell. They stopped and with a silent hiss, Rick stopped, too. Fools! Just fools! They couldn't even manage to run without tripping over their feet! He rushed to the man, Adam or something, and grabbed his arm. "Up—" he pulled the man up roughly, "We need to move!"

The man struggled at his feet, and let out a scream, "Ahh!"

"You brought us here," one of his friends told him, walking on in him, his voice accusing much like the words, "You brought us to die!"

Rick lifted his head, staring at the guy but before he could snap out, Carter cut it off, "We got no choice. We had to do it—" he said, and then turned to Rick, "What are we going to do now?"

What were they going to do now? What _he_ was going to do now? He brought his hand to the bridge of his nose, trying to ease the pain… if only that damn noise would snuff out. He'd thought many scenarios for what he could do if the herd broke off—Amanda had demanded that they should have some contingency plans for such an event, but in none of those scenarios, the threat was coming from Alexandria, was coming from home.

Rick felt torn. If it'd been anything else, he would've turned back to the intersection and picked up the RV and moved the breaking off herd back toward Daryl again. That was the plan B. But he had to go back. They needed him back at Alexandria. The blasted horn was still honking and if something happened to his family, if something happened to Carl, Judith or Amanda while he was out here—no—he could never forgive himself. But going back to Alexandria meant letting the half of the herd wander off toward the town too, a fact he knew for sure.

The rest he didn't know. He didn't know what was happening in the town. Then at that moment, Rick knew what he should do, what he was supposed to do…and the acceptance brought no joy to him, as if he'd accepted his own death sentence—yet he also accepted it. He could not let that those walkers end up outside the walls.

They could protect themselves. They had watch points, they had guns. They would fight. Amanda would've never gone without fighting—yet she had a miscarriage… Rick wanted to lift his head up and yell with fury for all the things that kept happening to them, he wanted to drop on his knees and cry, he wanted to rip off those rotten dead bodies with his hands—he wanted to—

Not what he wanted wouldn't matter, never did. He had to do what he must—he had to do what he must do to protect them. The half of the herd was moving to Alexandria and Rick had to stop them before it happened. He waved his people over to him, "Okay, listen up, here is the plan," he started as they circled around him, "Y'all go back to Alexandria. I'm going back to pick up the RV from the barricade and will circle around the Redding and get there ahead of them, then lead them back toward Daryl again."

Glenn shook his head, "You can't do it alone. I'm coming with you!"

Rick shook his head, "No. You need to get them back," he told the younger man, then his eyes moved, wandering at each of them, pointedly, "_You_ need to get back. All of you—No hiding, no waiting, just keep going. _Get_ _back_," he stressed out each word, "We don't know what happened, but they might need you back there." His eyes skipped over them again, "Prepare to fight your way through."

Not all of them was going to make this out alive, Rick had already known it, but he was hoping a good number of them at least would go back. His eyes skipped over them again, weighing them. One of them had already hurt his ankle, and that he was going to pull back the group now, slowing their paces, and Rick also knew he wasn't going to be the last one, either. They were lucky if half of them got back. He was about to warn Glenn but before he could Carter stepped forward an inch. "He's right," the man said, motioning Glenn with his head, "You can't do this alone. I'll come with you."

Surprised, Rick turned to the other man. "You?" he asked.

Carter nodded. "_This_ is how it's being outside, right?" the man asked back, "You need help."

Rick shook his head, "You'd slow me down," he told him plainly. The man opened his mouth to argue, but Rick cut him off. "I'm faster alone." He was still surprised though for the man's proposition, and somehow pleased too to hear it, too, so he added, "They need you back there," he said again, "Go."

He turned and started running back to the intersection without waiting his answer. He needed to do this now. A few feet later, his radio cracked, and he heard Daryl's voice, "Rick—?"

He brought the radio over his mouth, "I'm here—" he breathed out, still running.

"What's goin' on back there?" Daryl asked, "The back of the herd broke off—"

"Yeah—half of them—" Rick answered and jumped over a tree log, "They're slipping off."

"Why?"

The question momentarily stopped his feet. If he told Daryl what had happened, he knew Daryl would've turned back—Daryl would never listen to him to keep going, not while Beth was back at Alexandria too, and he needed Daryl to keep going. They could never keep the rest of the herd on the track with only one car without Daryl. "It's nothing, we're handling it," he answered, "You keep on."

"Rick?" Daryl questioned further with only mention of his name.

Rick shook his head. "We need to do this, Daryl. For them. We need to. Keep going." He cut the radio and continued running.

They had to. He thought of Carl, Judith, Amanda again… his chest tightening, but shaking his head again as he ran, Rick steeled his mind. He had to do what he must. If he stopped now, it would've been for himself, because he was afraid, and he was _so_ afraid, afraid of not knowing, afraid of losing them. But he had to do this. They needed _him_ to do this for them. Always for them. For the rest, he needed to trust them.

# # #

Of course, it had to be one of them who found her at the end.

Amanda was still laying down on the ground, staring at the sky, the damn horn blasting in her ears, tears running over her cheeks. She knew she should get up—do _something_—every moment the damn thing went on shrieking in the air, was fucking up Rick's plan, she just knew it—yet her limbs weren't listening to her will. It hurt—everything hurt—blood still oozing out of her… She wondered how much blood she'd lost—and her chest tightened, then at that moment her eyes caught a slight movement to her left, a figure in tatters, black and grey and dirt. Amanda turned at her head and looked at the man. His face was covered with a bandana over his hoodie, only clear stone blue eyes staring at her.

The eyes gave her a shiver. They could just not let her lay there, pity herself in pain, feeling miserable. Of course not. That would've been too much to ask. She evened out a sharp breath, groaning loudly, a bitterness inside her, and turned on her side, and started crawling toward her knife on the ground, one arm holding her below stomach.

Luckily this time, the man looked about her own built—so maybe—maybe—if she just could reach back her knife, it would be easy. When the man found her, she'd just grabbed the knife, and bracing herself for the pain, Amanda pulled herself up on wobbly, trembling feet, getting into a defensive position, and raised her arm with the knife, the other still holding her stomach, her shoulders sagging as she bent down a bit.

The man closed on in her. Amanda readied herself for a clean throw at his throat, quick. She had to deal with this quickly before she collapsed down at the ground. Even standing up was such a hard job, she could not do fighting again, she simply couldn't. But the man stopped an inch away from her before he'd entered in her reach, then pulled down his bandana—and Amanda stared…

"Carol?" she muttered out, her legs suddenly giving in with relief. Carol got quick reflexes. With a quick move, the older woman rushed forward and caught her before she dropped on her knees.

"What happened?" Carol asked back, her eyes at her crotch, eyeing the blood.

Amanda gestured with her head the dead body on the ground, leaning on her for support, "Had to fight. Didn't go well."

Carol gave a look at the man below their feet, and turned her head at her, taking Amanda's arm over her shoulder as her arm also held Amanda at the waist tightly at the back before she fell again. Amanda was still holding her own arm across her stomach, too, so she felt she was closed up in the weirdest embrace. God, she couldn't even stand on her own. "Where is your gun?" Carol asked her.

Amanda let out a sigh. "Gave it to Enid. She's with Judith with Carl."

Her eyes narrowing at Amanda, Carol studied her, "That was stupid."

She knew. With her gun, she could've killed the damn man at the first second, but Judith… no, she couldn't have risked it. She shook her head. "We need to stop this damn thing," she told the older woman instead, ignoring the look Carol was giving her as she started moving them towards the gate, "Beth and Maggie returned, Rick—they—they're doing it now."

"What?"

"Yeah," Amanda breathed out, dragging her feet beside Carol, "That truck fell. They're doing it now," she repeated, "That thing had to stop."

Carol lifted her head up and looked at the north. "I was going to the armory."

"So was I," Amanda said back, "But something hit at the wall from outside," she forced out, "Spencer got a shot, I think. I don't know. I heard it." She grimaced another surge of pain hit at her again, "Beth and Maggie were going to the armory, too. They will protect it. We need to stop that damn thing."

Carol nodded but caught her again as she slipped off the woman's shoulder for a second, the said, "We need to get you to the infirmary first—" She stopped momentarily, "You're bleeding."

"It's okay, I'm fine," Amanda lied, "We need to do this first."

Carol gave her a look, "I'm fine," Amanda repeated, pulling herself straight to make her point, and got hit with another spasm. She wasn't fine, she was far from being fine, but it didn't matter. She just had to suck it up now, the rest she was going to deal with it later. She was going to cry later. "With that horn, we're pulling walkers towards us. We gotta stop it."

Carol nodded. "Okay."

The fires were at everywhere now, houses getting burned with Molotov cocktails, and the smoke and smell were burning her eyes and throat. But the yard in front of the gates was clean. There was no one around. She looked around, her eyes wandering, feeling…disturbed—

"They're all going to north," Carol said, still supporting her weight on her shoulder as they walked—wobbled toward the gate, feeling the same unease Amanda felt, "I don't understand…it's like—it's like they know where everything is—" At north, there was the pantry—the armory.

Amanda forced out a snicker. "They _know_," she said back, "They found Nicholas."

Faltering at her steps, Carol gave her a look, twisting her neck aside, "Nicholas?" she asked back.

Amanda nodded, "Yeah." Momentarily, she wondered how Rick was going to take this, and what it was going to do the fragile trust Deanne and Rick had managed to build. This—this was just the thing Rick had been afraid of, the thing he'd been trying to warn the older woman, and once again Rick was right. For this time, Amanda wished he hadn't. "He possibly told them everything," she continued, "We got attacked just as the same day Rick and others left. It wasn't a coincidence."

"You think they were watching us?"

Amanda tried to shrug with one shoulder, and almost tripped over her feet. Carol's grip over her waist tightened as she yanked Amanda up against her side closer. "Possibly," Amanda hissed out with pain. It still hurt so badly… she started trembling again, "Th-they knew we got the numbers and got guns. They must have waited outside, looking for an opportunity. When they saw Rick and others leaving, they possibly decided to attack. I—I don't know." She breathed out laboriously, tilting her head backward, "He wasn't much of a conversationalist. He just said they were going to set us free."

Carol gave her another look, "What that means?"

She shook her head, "I've got no idea." She didn't, and she didn't care, either, not at the moment. "We gotta stop that damn thing," she repeated what mattered, lifting her head up at the sky— Every moment it kept blaring in the air, they were really fucking up Rick's plan—she thought what he might do right now—was he turning back to them—or was trying to deal with walkers gone off astray—

Amanda didn't know… though she hoped he was dealing with walkers. They could not deal with two bad at the same time. If walkers came at here, it was going to be only worse.

She really wondered how Deanne felt now…

She didn't need to wonder a lot though, close to the gate, where Amanda had left her, she'd seen the older woman, under the platform. She almost let out another snicker but held it back. _She'd_ told her to hide. Still, there was that—bitterness inside her again, cutting her in half—rising between her legs toward her heart— "Amanda!" the older woman gasped, seeing at her.

"I'm fine," she bit off, stopping Deanne before she could say anything else, "Where is Spencer?" she asked.

Spencer had made the shot, she had to talk with him. Before they went outside and dealt with it, they had to know what had happened first.

"He went out," Deanne said, "He—he'd seen a truck coming at the wall and shot at the driver." Deanne paused, "I told him to stop the horn."

As if on a cue, just at that moment, the horn stopped. Amanda gave the older woman a look. Deanne, even in hiding, had managed to do the thing she should've done while Amanda just had gone and found herself a fight—possibly losing her chance for another pregnancy in the meanwhile—she stopped the rest of her thoughts, feeling her eyes watering, sobs coming out of her. No. She wasn't going to cry. She _couldn't_ cry. Not now. She'd done what she had to. She didn't find the fight, she didn't look for trouble, trouble had found her. And there were still things they had to. Alexandria wasn't still safe. Carl and Judith _weren't_ still safe. They had to secure the town, deal with these monsters… She didn't get to cry yet. Not yet.

Spencer appeared at the gate a second later as she straightened back from the platform's leg where she had leaned against for support, her legs starting trembling again. "You're bleeding," Deanne told her the obvious as if the older woman had just realized her crotch was all over painted red.

Amanda shook her head, "We need to secure the armory," she said, then turning to Carol then stopped, seeing who was behind Spencer entering through the gate. "Glenn!" she cried out.

Michonne followed him, as the others followed them, and Amanda almost dropped on her knees and started crying—this time for relief. They'd come back. They were bloodied, dirt, sweat and blood covering their faces and clothes, but they were alive. But they were so few…fewer than what they'd left Alexandria. Her eyes searched through the crowd to spot the familiar blue ones—Rick—Rick had to come first… It wasn't his style to take the back—it was _not_… He was the leader…

"What happened here?" Glenn questioned, looking at them.

Her eyes still searching, Amanda didn't answer. Where was he? Panic was starting to blossom out inside her, fear gripping her chest tightly… No. No. No… The ground swept off her feet, and she rested her back against the log again not to fall—her eyes watering… "Where's Rick?" she asked to Glenn.

# # #

They were sitting at the infirmary's porch, looking at the direction of the gate. The scene felt oddly familiar to her, as the night they'd waiting Rick and Daryl to turn back from looking for Glenn. This time Glenn was here, but Rick and Daryl weren't. It wasn't still the night, either, so Amanda tried to take a little bit comfort from it, knowing they had at least time until the sunset. Beth had come out to her ten minutes ago to check on her after Glenn and others had left to deal with the dead before they started reanimating.

"They'll come back," Beth told her decisively over the screams back in the infirmary after a moment, "They will."

Amanda only nodded, ignoring the screams in the same manner, "You should get in, too," Beth then told her, "Denise needs to look at you."

"Denise's hands are full," Amanda slowly muttered, refusing, shaking her head, "I'm fine."

Her bleeding was continuing, but she was much _better_ than people inside the infirmary, people whose screams of pain were coming to them even outside the porch. It still hurt, but it was awful to bemoan about it where there were people in there with their guts cut open. The Wolves—they'd made them regret to ever put a step inside the walls at the end, but the maniacs had left their own scares too.

They'd butchered ten of them and wounded four people before Glenn and others had come back. And Denise now was trying to deal with that four people inside, feeling out of her depths, Rosita, Maggie, Beth all trying to help her. It could've been worse. Amanda knew. If Maggie and Beth hadn't been here—hadn't protected the pantry, consequently the armory it could've been a lot of worse. Half of the pantry was also gone, set up on fire to pull out Beth and Maggie, and Amanda could still smell smoke on the younger woman, her cheeks covered with soot. Some of the bastards had even managed to escape with guns, but the rest they had managed to sweep off clean. Not that Amanda had managed to do much of cleaning, they'd just brought her back to infirmary after she had fallen on the ground, realizing Rick had stayed behind in the woods, and since then Amanda had been waiting.

It could've been worse, she repeated at herself for the millionth times. Carl and Judith were okay, safely back at the house. They had no place in this carnage, had no place in this bloody turmoil. She wanted them to be away from all of this, away from all these mutilated bodies, broken limbs. She'd sent them back at the house after seeing them at the infirmary when it was barely safe outside again and told them to wait for her. Funny enough, Carl had listened. Amanda had stayed—not because she wanted to stay in the infirmary but because their houses were at the back of the other side of the town, without any clear sight of the main gate whereas the infirmary had a clear vintage point so she sat at the steps, looking out—waiting… It could've been worse, she told herself again, bowing her head—and looked at her crotch, screams in her ears.

They'd lost good people today, had sacrificed a lot… to keep this place, their loved ones safe. They still were. Rick was still out there—

"Amanda—" Beth said, but Amanda cut her off.

"I'm fine," she repeated, not letting her thoughts go further away, "You should get back. Denise needs you." She paused, "Just get me a painkiller if you can."

Beth shook her head, "You should at least go back to the house," Beth insisted, "Try to rest—"

Amanda let out a sigh, "Would you…?" she asked, as if she could sleep while she knew Rick was out there alone, doing some crazy shit all alone, "Would you rest knowing Daryl is out there?"

Beth stared at her, and shook her head, "No."

"Then don't tell me to rest, Beth. I _can't_."

Beth nodded, "Okay. But you'll stay here and won't do anything, okay?" she asked, "Promise me."

Defeated, Amanda nodded, "Okay."

Beth stood up, her hand brushing hers, "They'll come back," Beth told her again, and Amanda didn't answer again, "I'm gonna bring you your painkiller," Beth then said.

Amanda nodded again in silence over the screams.

A few minutes later after Beth had brought her a painkiller, Deanne came to find her, her face ashes and grey. Despite everything, Amanda felt bad. Reg—Reg was one of the ten, fallen in the attack. Deanne had lost her son and her husband in more than two weeks, a fact that almost made Amanda curl into a ball on the floor and cry her heart out, imagining how it would've been—she'd lost an unborn child—but what if—what if she lost Rick—no, she pushed the thought away—she was not going to think about that.

She was not going to cry. She was not going to think that.

Rick was going to come back. He was going to take her in his arms. He was going to tell her everything was going to be okay, then Amanda would cry. Not before then. Not before he walked inside that gate and took her in his embrace, she was not going to fall and cry.

She was _not_.

Deanne sat on the steps beside her. They sat in silence for a while, none of them trying to break it up. "He warned me—" Deanne remarked slowly then finally after a certain while with a voice barely audible, "He warned me if I was wrong—it was all of us who were going to suffer the consequences." With tears, the older woman bowed her head, "H—he was right." And she started to cry.

Turning her head aside, Amanda looked at her, and told her the only truth she felt, "I'm sorry you had to learn it in this way, Deanne."

Deanne shook her head, "I wanted to make it better," she whispered out, "but none of it makes it any better…" she said, as if she was finally accepting the world they lived in now, too.

A part of her wanted to clash the words, wanted to yell at her not to lose hope, wanted to say she _couldn't_ know how things would turn out, wanted to say it _wasn't_ her fault—but at the end, Amanda just stayed in silence.

After Deanne left, she turned her head to the gate again, watching it, waiting, but the infirmary was getting even more chaotic—even more in frenzy. Suddenly, she realized she shouldn't be here, but return to the house. She wanted to find Judith, hold her between her arms…breath her baby smell in her nostrils… She just wanted to be with her. She'd only been able to see her baby angel for less than a minute. She should be with them. She should hold them. She should tell them everything was going to be okay. She couldn't see the main gate from their house, but if Rick returned, there was no way she could miss it with the way things were now.

Slowly, she got up, even pain didn't feel that bad and started walking towards to the house. The part of the town where their houses were relativity calmer, and Amanda found Carl sitting at the steps of the porch Judith in her arms as well, Enid had already left. Carl looked at her, seeing her approaching, his eyes still at her bloodied crotch. Amanda realized she needed to change her trousers before Rick came back. She didn't want him to see her like _this_.

Carefully, she sat beside them at the steps, and twisting aside, she took Judith from him. She bowed her head in her hair and breathed deeply just like she had wanted— "Are you okay?" Carl asked, his tone…sounding worried.

She lifted her head from Judith, and put her hand on Carl's gently, "I'm now," she answered, and she meant it.

# # #

Rick ran, ran, and then ran a bit more. In one day, it felt he'd done all cardio he'd missed out since arriving to Alexandria. Sweat was dripping off his skin like a flood, his shirt clung at his body with it. Walkers were coming up at his way every now and then, and each time Rick dealt with them as quick as possible.

The horn stopped before Rick found the RV. He thought at least something was going right. Whatever had happened there at least they'd managed to silence that damn thing. They were fighting. Rick had known it. They wouldn't go without a fight. Amanda—Carol—Maggie—Beth… they would never let it go. And Glenn and Michonne would go back at any minute.

He found the RV fifteen minutes later, and circled the road getting ahead of the herd, closer to the Alexandria. It must be the place—it must be. "Glenn-?" he tried to call Glenn. He must be in the range, so if Glenn had made it back to the town he should answer.

And he did, he did answer, Rick heard the younger man's voice coming over the static, and something as heavy as mountains and as vast as oceans lifted off his heart. "Glenn."

From the other side the radio, a sigh came too, and he heard…screams at the background too, "Rick. We made it. The wolves—they'd attacked after we left." Glenn informed him, "We got it."

"Everyone is okay?" Rick asked fast, recalling the way those sons of bitches had left Noah's home, but only caring for this own people, for his own family, "Are y'all okay?"

"We—we lost people. Reg is dead, too. But—we—we're okay. We got a few burnt houses, and lost half of the pantry, too, but we _all_ are okay."

Rick let out a deep breath, nodding slowly. He still knew there were still more stuff he needed to learn, like how those damn bastards had found them at the first place, but it had to wait. They were _all_ okay. That was what mattered the most. They were alive. "I'm in position by my best guess," he told then Glenn, "I'm gonna lead them back to Daryl, then come back."

"Yeah, be careful," Glenn warned, "Some of them escaped. They'd be still out in the woods."

"Okay."

"See ya at the dinner, dumbass," Glenn shot back before he cut the line.

Rick let out a soft snicker, and called in Daryl too, "Daryl."

"Yeah, man?" Daryl answered as soon as he finished uttering his name, "What's happenin' over there?"

"The wolves—the wolves attacked," Rick then finally explained, "They dealt with it. Glenn and Michonne turned back. I just talked with Glenn—"

"And you tellin' me now!" Daryl shouted, "Fuck! I'm turning back!"

"No!" Rick quickly rasped out at the radio, "They're all okay. They are, Daryl. They handled it. We keep going on."

"You fucking didn't tell me, Rick!"

"We have to do it, Daryl—" Rick started but his words cut off as suddenly the door of the RV opened, and a man climbed up the steps and started shooting at him. Rick threw himself at the passenger seat as he heard over the radio Daryl's crying out his name.

The bullets hit at the dashboard, missing him, and in the sudden silence after the shots, Rick quickly arose behind the seat and threw himself at the man, knocking him down under him, tearing the gun away from him in the meanwhile.

Down at the ground, he saw the W mark at the man's forehead and understood he was one of those escapees Glenn had mentioned. Pulling himself back, he caught the man's throat with all the pent-up anger he had been building up in him—and started punching the man.

It was their fault! They'd cause the half of the herd moved to their home. They'd killed his people, they'd hurt them, had burned their homes, had made him to _choose_—forcing his hand—worry and fear… His knuckle started getting bloodied with each punch he hit at the man, but Rick didn't stop, he kept hitting him again and again until his face became unrecognizable with blood, and he actually started seeing his cheekbones…where his face had been now stood a ruin—Rick stopped, hands trembled and looked at the violent sight in front of him.

Slowly, he pulled himself back at his feet, knowing the man was already dead, and looked at his knuckles—he then pulled out his gun and shot at him at the head.

Fucking stupid son of a bitch— He turned around and started looking out for the radio, but when he called in, it didn't work again. With a sigh, Rick sat again at the driver seat and started wiping off the blood of his hand with a cloth at dashboard and leaning down he turned on the motor.

Nothing happened. He swore loudly, and tried again, his eyes checking the dashboard that had been hit with bullets. "No…no…" he muttered, trying again, "Shit!" and swore again, realizing the bullets instead of him hit at the motor.

"Shit!" he hissed again, looking outside—and saw walkers—getting out of the woods.

Many of them slowly was coming out the woods, finding their way…snarls, moans, gnarls filling in the silence—then Rick did what he could only do.

He shot up at his feet, rushed out of the RV, and started running again.

It'd become a habit.

* * *

_Uh, so, walkers are coming up as well, of course! But I wanted to spice up Daryl and Rick interaction a bit, because why not? Heh. And I don't know-holding back information at the field while doing something seemed like to me a thing Rick would do for the-uh, great good._

_The part with Deanne for was sad to write, and Amanda's answer "I'm sorry you had to learn it this way." was actually a shout out to Rick's famously awesome line from the first episode, "I'm sorry this happened to you."_

_Needlessly to say, like always, please do tell me what you think! Be seeing you..._


	42. Chapter 42

XXXXII.

* * *

Putting one foot at the ground, slowing down the bike, Daryl barked at the radio, pulling it up toward his mouth, "Rick! Rick!"

There was no answer from the other side. Daryl swore loudly. Everything felt like shit. "What's happening?" Sasha called in, instead of Rick, "Were those gunshots?"

"Sounds like it," Daryl said back, craning his head back checking the herd, then his eyes turned toward Alexandria… He tried to call in Glenn, but there was only static. He wasn't in the range. Rick must have been just at the border of their radio's reception between them and the rest of the team. If only he could talk with Glenn too. He could've made him to get Beth, so he could hear her voice. To think that Beth was there when those sons of bitches had attacked... He should be there with her, to protect her. There were also Judith, Carl, Carol, Sam… They were all there, and Daryl was _here_.

It was wrong. It felt wrong. His place was with his people. Daryl knew himself. He wasn't Rick. Daryl couldn't do what the other man could. He was the protector. So he should protect.

Abraham and Sasha could continue, he could turn back— Daryl grunted out again. It was too late now. The damn man! The damn man had lied to him. Rick knew Daryl would've turned back, so he lied to him, made him keep going. He understood Rick's point but still. Beth was there. So, he should be there, too. It was simple as that.

But it _wasn't_ simple as that, Daryl also knew, even the thought had brushed off his mind.

It was never simple now.

Fuck!

Nothing went well, he—he'd been glad when Rick had sent Beth back to Alexandria, to warn them. He had never wanted her to be here at the first place, but now, he regretted that decision. He'd thought she could've been safer back at the town…What a dumbass he was, Daryl Dixon stupid.

Nowhere was safe. He'd always known that. The town had gotten him too, much like Beth's soft lullaby, candles and smiles, the comforts of Alexandria had gotten him. They'd turned him softer.

But everything was _so_ good with Beth. Rick was having it hard with the town and Shepherd but Beth and him—they were settled—like—like they'd been doing this for a long time—like—like for his whole life he'd been waiting for this, and when it happened, it just happened. Sometimes he still felt a beast next to her, but he also accepted it. Beth loved him whole, this and that, whole package.

He tried to imagine what Beth would've wanted him to do—then Daryl knew the answer. Beth would want him to keep going, complete the mission, and protect them at any costs. She was fiery in that way, never losing hope, always trying to save people.

Putting his foot back on the bike, he turned on the motor again, and brought the radio up again. He called in, "Come on, let's finish this," he told Abraham and Sasha before started again riding away from home.

# # #

Thank god for small mercies, Alexandria still had sanitary pads. Inside the bathroom, Amanda sat at the edge of the toilet and started taking off her tactical boots and then hissing, she pushed off her trousers too. They were almost clung on to her, plastered on her skin with dirt and blood.

The garment pooling in her feet, Amanda looked at the ruin thing. Maybe she really should stop wearing it. She was no longer a police officer now. She didn't feel like one but seeing it like this…ruined—like a part of her ruined too—she stopped her thoughts again.

She was not going to think like that! She was not.

She had come in and decided to change so Rick wouldn't see her like this. She bowed her head and looked at between her legs. Blood was still slowly oozing out of her, now towards the tiles of the bathroom.

The sight made her tremble, but it wasn't so bad—she told herself—it _wasn't_ pouring anymore… and painkiller had started showing off its effect, it wasn't hurting so badly, either. She lowered her bloodied underwear as well and hopped into the shower. She washed her lower body with only water—then putting two sanitary pads at once she put on new panties. Denise had told her before she shouldn't use tampons to stop the bleeding, so she only put the pads and walked out the bathroom.

She changed her shirt too and took another cargo trousers she'd found earlier and put them on, too. She looked…decent. The black trousers were a simple, plain thing, without any pockets as well, and there had been only a chain across at one side, attached to the belt, but Amanda had already taken it off. She turned to look at the mirror, nodding at her image back there. She could do this. She had to.

Crying in self-pity did no good to anyone. Rick was going to come soon. He needed to see her like this, not like _that_. Her eyes caught at his white t-shirt still was on the ground, the basic shirt he wore to the bed when it was colder at nights—She walked to it and took it off—and brought it to her face.

She deeply inhaled, breathing his scent… and almost started crying again.

With a huff, she dropped the t-shirt at the bed, and left the room.

She went back to the porch and sat beside Carl again, but before she could take Judith back into her lap—Carl shook his head. "Uh—you shouldn't keep her," the young boy said, "She's heavy."

Yes, Judith was getting heavier, a fact both Rick and she had gladly noticed, but Amanda understood what Carl had meant to say. Even sitting at her lap, the weight of the baby would be too much for her. She nodded briskly, reaching out to caress Judith's cheek, and felt tears welling inside her eyes again. Damn!

When—when she'd turned into a cry baby like this!

Then at that moment, she noticed the shouts! She whipped her around at the left side where the main gate was and raised at her feet—holding back a hiss. It wasn't hurting as much it had, yes, painkillers in her blood stream had worked their magic, but it still hurt… She turned aside to Carl, "Go inside. Back to the room."

Nodding, Carl listened to her again. She started walking to the gate. Glenn was yelling at Michonne to open it from the platform above where he was at the watch-out. Spencer had taken the lookout at the bell tower too, checking out the perimeter and his sniper gun was directed at the gate, Amanda saw craning her neck up.

Hurriedly, Michonne slid the gate open, and then getting closer, Amanda saw it.

It felt like something else had ripped off her again and—she felt something leaked off between her legs into the pads. Rick—Rick was running, his feet barely touching at the asphalt, yelling at them to open the gate as walkers were just coming behind him, barely out of arm's reach.

Some of them were trying to get him and pushing and throwing Rick were getting them out of his way. From above them, Glenn had started taking shots at the closest ones as Michonne waited at guard at the gate, her hand going back touching at the handle of her blade, ready to take out her katana for any emergency. The sight—the sight disturbed her profoundly, switching something off in her.

She drew out her gun, thankful that she'd taken it back from Enid, and started running to the gate. Her blood fastened, she could feel it—but she wasn't going to stand back and watched Michonne protect _her_ husband! Damn her if she let it happen!

She stood a few feet ahead of them and stepped outside of the gate, running to him— and walkers, "Rick!"

"Get back!" he yelled at her, "Get back inside!"

She didn't listen and started shooting at the walkers. A second later, he caught her, still running, and pushed both of them inside the gate as Michonne closed the gate at their back against the upcoming herd. "Amanda—" Rick almost started, but she just threw herself at him, cutting his words, and hugged him tightly.

He'd come back. Walkers had come with him, too, but _he_ had come back. He was standing in her arms—hugging her back—so it didn't matter. She—she could…she could cry now. Only she _couldn't_.

Walkers had come. The townsfolk were looking at each other with utter shock and dread, catching the glimpses of the scene outside the world, hearing the tell-tale snarls and gnarls. They were going to look at them for guidance. They were supposed to be their leaders—Rick wanted her to be the woman she was… and she supposed a leader wasn't to get an emotional breakdown in front of all of her people. No. She had to be strong and suck it up. Later… When everything was settled down. They…they would talk.

She might cry then, when it was only two of them. Now, there was simply no time. Steeling herself, she took a step back. "What happened?" she asked as Glenn came down from the platform, too.

Rick stood in the middle of the circle the townspeople had made. "One of the Wolves attacked me. The RV got hit. Couldn't get it running back," he explained, and turned his eyes at the gathered crowd, weighting them.

The crowd shared again frightened looks, and someone from them cried out, "You brought them here!" his tone was accusing as much as his words, "You brought them just back to our home!"

Amanda scowled as Rick shook his head, wandering his eyes at the townspeople, "I know you're scared," he told them then, "You haven't seen anything like this. But it's happening. They're here. And we're lucky that it's only the half," he continued, "the other half is still following Daryl, Abraham and Sasha. But we must deal with them. We _must_," he stressed out, "We must protect our home. Our walls are strong. They're standing—" His eyes again wandered at around them, "But will you too?"

Carter stepped out from the crowd. "How?" he asked, "How will we protect our home?"

"That truck outside hit at the panel, but it's still standing. We're going to reinforce it. The whole wall. Then we'll think something. We'll find a way out. We always do. And if we _not_, we'll wait until Daryl, Abraham, and Sasha come back and pull the rest of the herd away from us, too. Until then, we'll hold."

Someone else from the crowd, a redheaded woman asked, "What if we can't?"

But this time it was Carter who answered, "We will—" the man said, and his eyes skipped at Rick, "We got no options."

Amanda wondered what had passed between out there, because it looked like something—happened, and they'd—they had come to a sort of understanding with each other. Rick nodded. "We'll do our best. We'll keep the noise at minimum, will blacken out everything, even put some shades at the windows. This town gotta be as silent as a graveyard. With no voice, some of them would get distracted and leave."

Rick looked at them again then and moved toward Glenn. He waved at Carter too. "Round up people who might be helpful. Not everyone. We meet at Deanne's house in a half of an hour," he told them, giving a look at Deanne, too, "We'll discuss then what we're going to do."

With that, he took her hand and started walking her toward the house.

It was amazing, just the way his words, his presence had calmed down the panic in the town. Okay, maybe not for everyone, Alexandrians had been still giving each other those looks, but it certainly had calmed Amanda down.

Back at the house, just after they stepped into their room, he quickly grabbed her at the waist before she could take a step away from the door and his lips hungrily caught hers, as if it took everything in him to wait until they were back at their room, _alone_. Amanda responded with the same intensity—coiling her arms around his neck, bringing him closer to her as he pushed her back against the door, kissing her as desperate to water as a man dying from thirst. He pulled back after a moment and rested his forehead at hers, sighing deeply. "I was so afraid—" he muttered, "I was so afraid something happened to y'all."

"So was I," she told him back, sighing out. She thought about telling him what had happened, but something held her. He didn't need to know it now. Not yet. She hadn't wanted him to see her like _that_, blaming himself—feeling guilt seeing her like that, but the herd was making it even harder now. Perhaps it was even better if he learned it after they dealt with the herd.

Rick gave her a kiss at the forehead again and took a step back, unbuttoning his dripping wet shirt. "What happened here?" he asked, taking it off, "How those assholes found us?" He paused, his eyes skipping at hers, "I really should listen to you more—" He shook his head. "You wanted us to find them. You wanted us to leave a car here too."

Amanda shrugged, letting out another sigh, and sat at the edge of the bed, "You accept it at least. Dawn never used to."

"Yeah…" Rick muttered, taking up the white t-shirt she'd thrown back on the bed earlier and put it on. Amanda remembered how she'd smelled it a few minutes ago, wanting him back. And he was back, but it wasn't over yet, it wasn't far from being over. It never ended. She then recalled his words at the barn. _It only ends when we die…_

The barn—the night they'd shared there then sometimes felt like it was just yesterday, sometimes it felt like a million years had passed. Everything felt different, yet still the same. Bad things were always there, waiting to happen to them. But every day was a new day, and they got up and went to fight. They always held up.

Rick went to bathroom to wash his face, and Amanda walked to him as he started wiping his face off with a towel. "It was Nicholas," she stated then, standing at the threshold of the bathroom's door, leaning at the frame, holding up.

His hands stopped and lowering the towel down over his chin, Rick gave her a look in the mirror, his face closing off— "They found him," she explained further, "I saw his backpack with one of them. He told me."

He threw the towel away angrily. "I knew it!" He shouted, stepping out of the bathroom, "I told _her_! I so fucking told her!"

"Rick—" Amanda said back, turning aside to him, "Reg—Reg died. She's paying the price, too—"

He took an angry step forward back to her, and caught her arm, "You _all_ would've died!" he shouted again, "I—I had to choose between you and walkers, knowing damn well something might happen to you—all of you…" He roughly pulled her at his chest, "Do you know _how_ it felt?"

She felt blood leaked out of her again at the his rough gesture, but maybe it was just because of his words, because she knew damn well how it felt making a choice... She grabbed his arm to steady herself, not giving in temptation to hiss in pain. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Are you okay?" he asked, "Your face is so white." He paused, "What happened?"

"Nothing," she said, pulling back herself an inch away and leaned again against the frame, "It was a long day."

He gave her another look, and took another step, "Amanda, what happened?" he asked again, this time sterner, then his eyes lowered down and she knew he was checking out on her to see if there was any blood… Then his eyes narrowed even further, "Your pants… you changed them," he declared.

Amanda stared at him—sometimes she was forgetting he was a cop, too. "Rick—"

"Amanda," he cut her off, not letting her talk, "have you started bleeding again?"

She swallowed… "I—I—" she breathed out, and started to tell him what had happened, she couldn't hide it anymore from him, not anymore, "There was this man," she said, "The one told me about Nicholas. I—I had to fight with him. Managed to kill him, but took a few hits, too. It's not much…but—"

Even before she could finish, bending, Rick swooped her up in his arms. "Rick!" she cried out as he started carrying her outside, "What are you doing?"

"What are _you_ doing, Amanda?" he hissed out at her, "What _were_ you doing running like that at the gate? Why are you even here?" He shook his head, frustrated, "Why the hell aren't you in the infirmary?"

She exhaled deeply. "Have you seen the infirmary?" she asked back, "Denise got no time for me. We've got people severely injured."

He dipped his head down to find her eyes, "You're bleeding, Amanda."

"I'm fine—" she repeated the same thing she kept saying. She'd made a choice. She'd chosen to protect Judith, Carl, her family…her people, and she was going to do it! She was going to hold up. Rick had told them to hold up, so she was going to do, too. "Put me down, Rick."

His steps faltered after her order, but in response he only looked at her. "Walkers are just outside of our gates. You told us to hold up, and I will," she told him, "I'm not going to lay in a bed feeling sorry for myself while you fight for our lives. I _won't_!" she paused, and ordered again with a clear voice, "Put me down. I'm coming to Deanne's, too."

He gave her another look, but still didn't put her down. "You've done your part," he said, frowning, "You can't fight like this."

She shook her head. "I'm not going to fight! I'm not that stupid. But I can't be here. We have to decide what to do with that herd." She paused, "You told me not to run away from responsibility, Rick—" she reminded him his words then, "told me to be the woman I'm supposed to. I _am_ listening to you."

His frown loosened a bit, but still he didn't move, "Then listen to me again. You'll come to the meeting, but you won't tire yourself, and after it's done I'll bring you to the infirmary," he asked, "Are we clear?"

She nodded, "I'll come back here and rest, I promise," she agreed, "But I'm not going to infirmary. I really don't have a place there right now, Rick. And Denise would just tell me the same. Lie down and rest."

Nodding back, he finally put her down. She breathed out again, and started opening the door, but his hand stopped her again, taking her back in his embrace. "Amanda, it's going to be okay. It will."

A part of her just wanted to snort, tell him don't lie to her, because it was never going to be okay, never again… It would never end. They might be dead, their home might get overrun—at best, she might never have another baby again… but she just held him back instead. "Promise?" she asked.

His lips brushed her hair again before he did, "I promise."

# # #

For this time since Daryl had stayed with her after the dawn, Beth felt…desperate.

They were all gathered inside Deanne's hall how like Rick had demanded, discussing what they should do, faces tired but holding up.

They were all holding up, even the Alexandrians that Rick had decided to come in to the meeting. There was that man—Carter—the one she'd always thought was a bit whinny, talking now, and funny enough Rick was listening to him intently—Back at the gate, she'd heard the man standing up for Rick too, so Beth figured out something had happened—a life changing thing had happened between them out there. It was always like this with them now—bonded by tragedies and hardship, becoming a family.

"We can't use the bell tower anymore, it might collapse—we're lucky it took the first impact of the crush—" Carter said, looking at Rick as their leader stood perched at the couch's rest where Amanda lay her legs over it.

Rick nodded. "We'll use the platforms, double up the patrols and watch outs." He twisted to Spencer and Rosita, "You do it—Take if you know anyone with a good shots with you. Michonne will help you, too." His eyes skipped at Michonne before he dipped his head, and asked Amanda, "Have you managed to stash the guns in the town?"

Amanda shook her head, "We were just talking about it when they attacked. No."

Rick nodded. "Maggie, Beth, you're on it," he ordered them, too, "Four section, each part gotta have a good stash. We define a team leader for each section and they'd lead their people out in the meeting point if the wall falls down."

"The meeting point?" Amanda asked.

"The warehouse. It's the largest one, and closest to the outside of the wall. We regroup there. We might set up a perimeter too. It'd hold them back for a while if we're breached." He turned to Tobin and Glenn, "Tobin, Glenn, you're at it."

Tobin nodded, as Carter frowned and looked at Rick. "What about the damage panel? We could try to reinforce it from inside, but outside it's another story." Carter stopped, "If Reg were here—" the man continued, skipping his eyes at Deanne, then stopped.

The leader of Alexandria's face was ashen. Her whole appearance was like a ghost. Beth felt so sad. Reg was a good man, the reason why they all were still here, safely behind the gates he had built. Her thoughts then moved to Daryl and she thought of him—doing this without her. She—she had to be there with her. She'd wanted to be with him, she always wanted to be with him, but she also knew if she hadn't returned with Maggie and fought for the armory, things would've gone very badly. It was a blessing.

Maybe—maybe she should start praying again—it was since a long time she hadn't prayed—there was only one pray had left to her now—_please don't let me die_—and she hadn't—she wanted to pray for Daryl, too—for his safe return. He was going to come back. She knew it. He was—but she wanted to pray too… It's been such a long time. Father Gabriel had started a pray circle too after the noon—for their injured ones and for the death that circled them around. Rick had only snickered, shaking his head, seeing it, Amanda had sighed out, but both hadn't commented. Beth just—had walked away.

"It has to do," Rick said "Daryl, Abraham, and Sasha will return in the morning. It's gonna need to hold until then."

"What if they don't return?" Spencer Monroe asked, and Beth snapped her head back at him.

"They will," she told him with a certainty she couldn't exactly feel, but she still did, "They will come back."

The younger man shook his head, "We still need a contingency plan—" he said.

Rick gave the man a hard look then shared a brief glance with Amanda, and Beth didn't miss it. "We—we might create a distraction to support the panel from outside then. It might help until they come back."

Spencer shook his head, "We might try to break off and return to the quarry to take back one of the vehicles," he argued.

Amanda's eyebrows pulled together. She looked more collected with her new clothes, but Beth knew it was still a bravado she was putting on her. Beth was also half surprised to see her with them again, seeing Rick letting her to stay with them, instead of bringing her forcefully into the infirmary.

But they were all doing whatever they could. "He's got a point," Rosita commented, "If we can take back one of the vehicles. We might try to pull away the herd on our own. And we don't have to wait for that."

Rick shook his head, "Yeah, but without the bike we could only get away half—"

"And it's too risky," Amanda cut off in, "Wolves might be still outside. We wait for Daryl." The other woman turned to her, "He's gonna come back."

Nodding, Beth wondered if the words had meant for her, to make her feel better. She usually stood at the other side of the line, trying to comfort others, and it was always her too—she was the believer—but when their roles had changed—Beth realized it was harder.

She always hated to be left behind—but left behind like this was even worse. She had to be there with Daryl—just be there with him. It was always them for a long time now—it felt since like the beginning now—and Beth didn't want that change. They made a good team.

After the meeting was done, Amanda came to find her outside at the porch, and held on her arm. "Walk me back to the home?" she asked, "I promised Rick I'm gonna return to the house and rest after the meeting."

Beth looked at her, "Was it how you convince him to come here?" she asked.

She let out a sigh. "He wanted to take me to the infirmary—"

"It isn't such a bad idea—" Beth said in return, "Denise—"

"Won't able to help me, Beth," she completed for her, "You know it. She doesn't even know how. She tries her best but—this is out of her practice. I—I need a gynecologist."

She turned to look at the older woman. "Maybe when this all finished, we can go out and look for someone—Deanne still wants us to look for people, right?"

Amanda shook her head, "I don't think Deanne will able to do any of ordering anymore, Beth—" she said with a sigh, as they started walking to the door, "I think she's lost her spirit… and I'm not sure if it's really a good idea looking for people—not before we enforced what we have here and deal with our neighborhood first. We can't let anything like this happen again."

Beth frowned at her again, "What do you mean?"

"It was Nicholas, Beth," Amanda told him then, "I just told it Rick. I saw this man—the man I was fighting. I told me they found Nicholas. It's how they found us."

Beth felt her eyes burning, suddenly take it hard way, "It's always going to be like this, right?" she asked, "Always?"

Amanda took her hand, and tightened her fingers, "We'll find a way, Beth. We always do." She paused, then said, "Daryl will come back, we send those sonsofbitches away from our home—" It really felt like their positions were reversed, and instead of talking to her down, this time it was Amanda who was giving her…hope, "Everything's going to be okay. I promise."

Beth smiled between her tears, "Can you—can you come with me to pray?"

Amanda looked at her, "I—I forgot all the words, Beth."

Beth looked at her back, "So did I—" she said, but maybe they could find them together again.

Amanda then turned to left and looked at the church, "I promised Rick I'd return to the house," she said after a while.

Rick was still inside the house, and Beth knew he had got so much to do. And so she did. Maggie and her had to stash the weapons but—but Beth wanted to do this first. "We—we can pray in your room," Beth said, "I need to help Maggie too."

Giving her a look, Amanda then nodded. They went back to the house, and Amanda lay down in the bed, resting her back against the headrest as Beth sat at the edge of the bed. She took the older woman's hands in hers, and they bowed their heads.

Beth tried to find the words again—passages from Psalms flashing through her mind—about pestilence and plagues, and terror of the night, and strengthen—but at the end no word came to her. They stood in the silence then, holding each other hands, and their foreheads touched at each other as they listened to the faint snarls and groans of the walkers from outside, coming to them in the silence the town had bestowed upon. Beth then slowly muttered the only prayer she still could find in herself, "Please… Let us be okay."

And Amanda repeated it the same low voice after her, "Please… Let us be okay."

Beth then stood up and left to find Maggie. The dead was at their doorsteps, snarling and trying to crawl their way into their side—like how night was always crawled its way into the day—but at the end—a new day always come back.

He would come back.

Beth knew it as sure as she knew a new day would come in the morning.

# # #

As Amanda and Beth started walking back to their house, Rick watched them, standing at the porch of Deanne's house. The old woman came to his side a few minutes later, and started watching the town with him as they stood silently.

The people was still around, clearing off the streets from dead bodies and washing off the blood as silent as possible, while construction crew started taking off materials from the warehouse for reinforcements. He needed to prepare these people for a fight, in any case—at worst case. They had to understand, they needed to fight, or they were going to die. Maybe not today, not tomorrow, either, but one day.

"I'm sorry for your loss," Rick said then, skipping his eyes at Deanne, "He was a good man."

And Rick meant it. He—respected Reg. The man had built what Rick had been trying to manage since the beginning of the turn—a safe haven. "You warned—you both warned me." She shook her head, "I—I should've listened to you. I'm sorry, too."

Rick turned aside to look at her properly. A part of him still wanted to get mad at her, still wanted to snort at her, told her this was the civilization they were living in now—but words just didn't come out. He'd been right, but so she had been, a part of him also knew that, even though he didn't want to admit. "We're still here," he told her then the only truth he knew, "We're still fighting."

Deanne shook her head slowly, "Maybe—maybe we're meant to suffer through this—to understand—to realize what it means." She exhaled deeply, "There's this Roman poet Reg used to quote a lot while we tried to put up the wall—his favorite—_Perfer et obdura; dolor hic tibi proderit olim._" Deanne quoted, "Be patient and strong; someday this pain will be useful to you."

Rick nodded, "It will." Be patient and strong. Alexandria… The ancient city of the civilization, built thousands years ago for the first time, a place of wonders and knowledge—For a little while it felt so ironic—the town's name—and perhaps—fitting. Alexandria still lived, still surviving. "We're going to have to fight," Rick told her then, "We have to."

Deanne nodded. "Then we will," she said, "Believe in us," the old woman continued, "You always say we have to come back to the real world, but you never believe we could make it."

No, he hadn't. And he'd been right. If his people hadn't been here, if they hadn't bled for Alexandria—they would've suffered the same fate of Noah's hometown. Rick knew it, Deanne knew it, but they had fought. Much like Amanda, they'd bled for it, too—Rick had seen the infirmary, and it was as worse as Amanda had alluded. They—they were holding up.

Rick nodded then. "We will, Deanne," he said, "We'll make it."

His mind making up, he went to find Carl. His son was sitting at the porch of their house, his rifle still balanced between his legs. Rick really felt glad that he'd left it to him before he'd left for the dry on. "Where is Judith?"

"Amanda took her after Beth left—" Carl said back, "They're together."

Rick frowned. "She has to rest. Judith might tire her." He made a move to go in and took Judith back, Carol might look after her, but standing up, Carl stopped him. "No—Dad, let her. She—" Carl started then stopped. Rick stared at his son, waiting, his eyes narrowing a bit. "She—she had a gun," Carl then continued after a second, "I was with Judith with Enid in your room, we were protecting her. Amanda—she found us. She came to check on us. I had my rifle, but Enid didn't have a gun, Amanda gave hers to Enid." Carl bowed his head, looking at his feet, "She wanted us to protect her—If she had a gun, she might've not need to fight with that man. I'm sorry."

Something in his chest tightened so badly, Rick felt he was going to die for a second. He swallowed hard through a lump in his throat, and held his son by his shoulder with one arm. Her gun! Rick had never thought of it—just assumed she'd just run out of the bullets…or something… She'd given up her own protection just to make sure Carl and Judith were safe. "She wanted to protect _you_," Rick told him, and took a step back. "I'm—I'm gonna teach these people how to shoot. We can't practice with bullets, but they gotta learn how to use a gun. Gather all people at the backyard of the warehouse in half of an hour ago, okay?"

Carl nodded. Rick then left for the infirmary. He had to be sure. Denise still needed to see her.

The infirmary was as worse as Amanda had told—Denise had lost one of the wounded, Rick had heard it before they'd gathered at Deanne's, and the rest of them now were put into sleep. Heath, and two others from his team were at guard—if they didn't make it out. Within the sight, Rick understood why Amanda didn't want to come at the infirmary. Standing at the threshold, not wanting to disturb the forced tranquility Rick first nodded at Heath. The younger man came at his side. "How are they?" Rick questioned.

The supply runner shook his head, "Denise managed to stop bleeding, but they lost blood. They started blood transfusion, but—I don't know." Rick nodded. He remembered how it'd happened with Carl back in the days—that nightmarish waiting—and took a step further into the man, and dropped his voice a tone down. He gave the younger man his cuffs, "If their conditions worsens, put them on. We—we can't take any changes."

Taking the cuffs silently, Heath nodded. Rick moved in and found Denise. "Doctor—" he called out as silent as possible, "A word, please." Denise walked to him. "Amanda—" Rick started explaining once the woman arrived at his corner, "She started bleeding again. She didn't want to disturb you now when—they're others—but if there's something we can do-"

Shaking her head, Denise cut him off, "I'm sorry, I don't know. This—none of this—is really my expertise—" she exclaimed quietly with a breath out.

"You're doing well," Rick told her.

She shook her head, "I'm doing my best," she said in return tiredly.

And that was what they had. "She has to lie low and rest, I would've given her a sedative to put her into sleep too, but doesn't sound like a good idea now."

No, it wasn't. They had to put those wounded into sleep because they were screaming and in pain, but if—if something happened—she had to be consciousness. But still… "Can you give her something to relax her a bit?" Rick asked.

"Hmm—" Denise hummed thinking, "I guess she could half of an Atarax. It's not as strong as Diazepam. Usually we used it for children and…um…cats."

Rick stared at her, "Cats…?"

"Yeah—when they're in—um—heat, you know…to calm them down—"

Rick continued to stare at her, and she blushed, and turned aside, "I find you one. Just give her half of it—should be enough to relax her without knocking her out."

Rick nodded, taking the little pill the woman had given her without any word, and went back to the house. He found Carol, and gave the pill to her, "Can you give this to Amanda—half of it—don't tell her—just mix it into a protein shake or something. Denise gave it, should relax her a bit."

Carol gave him a look. "Drugging her now?"

"She needs to rest. She's feeling anxiety."

Taking the pill, Carol nodded. "Judith is sleeping now. I'll take her too when she wakes up."

Rick nodded, "Thank you." He paused, "Are you okay?" he asked then, giving her a look.

"Yeah. I am." She paused, "As good as anyone can be—while those walkers are out there."

Rick nodded too. As town slowly fell into the silence, the only sounds of the herds were coming to them clearer. For a moment, Rick thought to go to her and put her into sleep himself, holding her in his arms, caressing her hair—whispering into her ears—making sure everything was going to be all right, making her forget the snarls and groans from the outside, making her forget blood oozing out of her insides… making her forget everything but them—together.

But he just could not. Alexandria needed him—needed to see him—fighting—enduring. He walked around the town—checking all the preparation, making sure this time everything was in place. He helped Tobin and Glenn and their teams as they set up ditches in front of the warehouse, and help Carter as the man tried to reinforce the damaged panel. Rosita and Spencer were at the guard at the platform, as Michonne had the patrols at the ground.

They were holding up, fighting, enduring; all this pain—all this—blood—all these sacrifices… they were worth of something.

Home.

It was for home.

Rick walked to the backyard of the warehouse, and stood in front of townspeople—possibly people had never held any gun before… He saw the old couple of sixty years, the one that had a liking to Judith from the first day, he saw the redhead woman who had given him those desperate looks and words when the herd had come back first, he saw her boyfriend, he saw Enid, he saw another old lady, who had silver hair, he saw Jessie, Ron, even little Sam… he saw all Alexandria—prepared to fight for their home.

Carl was standing a feet in front of them, looking at him, behind a small table he'd also prepared, guns on it, and his old Sheriff hat were on his head, holding up his rifle at his shoulder, ready. Rick walked to his son, and nodded at him like a proud father he was.

"All right, people," he told his townspeople, "Let's do this."

Then Rick started teaching them until the sun set down behind the horizon. They first started with guns—holding them up—trying to get them accustomed to the weight of it, the feel of it. Then thought them how to take an aim—how to make sight alignment—how to draw, then they moved to knives and blades—how to make moves, how to make a charge. They worked on them as silent as possible as the day aged to night, and the growls and snarls had increased louder and louder—

By the time they had ended the training session, it was all dark, and the town now was in a deadly silence—apart of the growls, snarls and gnarls.

He'd found Amanda in the bed back at the home, holding Judith against her side lightly, one arm gently touching her as if to make sure she was right there with her as they both slept. With a sigh, he took Judith up and put her back into her cot, giving a kiss at her forehead. He took his shirt off, but left his jeans on if something happened and they had to leave urgently, and he saw Amanda had done the same too—her new trousers were still on. Rick checked it out and saw no blood… He then slipped in the bed, crawling toward her back and finally held her against his chest. She mumbled in her light drugged induced sleep— "Rick—?"

He kissed her shoulder, wrapping his arms around her waist tightly, "'Shss, go back to sleep."

Her body relaxed against him further—and she sighed out deeply—her arm reaching out to find Judith—then her body tensed when it came empty— "Judith—" she cried out, her voice rising a bit—her words half slurred, "Jud—"

Rick tightened his arms, and kissed her shoulder again, "It's okay—she's okay. She's sleeping in her cot. Go back to sleep, baby. You saved her."

She let out a breath, his words calming her down— "No one can—hurt my baby…" she slurred out, her eyes closing again.

Rick buried his head at her shoulder, breathing her deeply, "No one," and he agreed.

* * *

_A/N: For anyone who wasn't aware-because I think they didn't mention it in the show, the Latin quote Deanne mentioned was actually a line from Ovid's Metamorphoses, the infamous Roman poet, which by happenstance is one of my favorites, too. I think it was a great moment for Deanne._

_For some reasons, I struggled very much with this chapter, but at the end it turned out okay, I guess._

_Like always, hope you liked it._


	43. Chapter 43

XXXXIII.

* * *

Daryl hadn't returned in the morning, nor Abraham or Sasha.

Around the noon, Rick stopped in front of the wall, trailing a finger over the damaged panel, and frowned at the blood stains running down over a slit across it as the metal panel groaned heavy from outside. His fingertips got sticky with the dark blood and Rick knew it was walkers' blood.

His expression getting grimmer, he listened to the growls, groans, and snarls from outside. Since the last night, they were getting louder—louder, surrounding them like a nightmarish cocoon. Walkers herd up, it was a fact Rick knew very well. When he had woken up in the morning, the first thing Rick had noticed was that, the increased sounds of the walker. Leaving Amanda and Judith still sleeping in the bed, Rick had left the house then, and had walked out to check out the perimeters, and hadn't been surprised to see walkers had drawn more of them over the night. Many of them was gathered around the damaged panel too as if they were feeling its weakness, throwing themselves against, clanking against the metal surfaces, bleeding through cracks as the metal protested with groans under the attack.

He lifted his head and looked at the watch out platform over the gate—and saw Beth was still standing there, looking at the north, where Daryl, Abraham, and Sasha would come back. She had been there since the morning, never leaving even for once. He'd gone up and tried to talk her to come down, but Beth had stubbornly refused, telling him she would come down when Daryl had returned.

Rick had left her there then. They had to keep watches non-stop. Someone had to stay there always so he figured Beth could be one of them. They all took turns for watches, but Beth had stayed there whole night. Rick wondered if the young woman had even slept last night.

Maybe Rick should've given her something as well, but then he needed all people. This was going to be hard…but they were holding up—they were fighting. All Alexandria was fighting, and Rick knew it was not over yet. He looked at the blood at his fingertips, the snarls and growls in his ears increasing… They were going to have to fight more.

His eyes wandered around, looking at the town again—then he caught Amanda and Carl walking toward him. She was walking on the arm of Carl with slow, small steps, her hand looped around Carl's elbow. Rick grimaced her seeing at her feet once again, exhaling a sharp breath. For once, just for once if she listened to him! She had to be in the bed. While she _still_ could, she had to be in the bed!

He marched towards them; his eyes fixed at Carl. Before Rick had left, he had brought Judith to Carl so when she woke up, Amanda would rest, telling his son to look out for them—but here Carl was—assisting Amanda out. "Carl—" he started but Amanda cut him off.

"_Don't_ Carl at him," she said, giving him a pointed look, her eyebrows tightened with displeasure, "I told him I'm going out. Wanted to help me—" She shook her head, her eyes turning sterner, "I slept through whole morning, Rick. _Whole morning._"

His jaw clenched. He turned to Carl again, taking her from his arm, "You go find Judith," he told his son, "We'll come later."

Carl nodded, started walking away as Amanda turned to him. "I just woke up," she stated, "You drugged me, didn't you?" and inquired, her voice taking a turn in accusation, "I slept the whole morning through _this_!" She gestured with her hand, saying the last word, as if to indicate the snarls and growls that got louder with every passing minute. She shook her head with another sigh, "Seriously what did you give me?" she asked.

"Atarax," Rick then admitted, "Denise said it should relax you without knocking you out. It's usually given to children—and cats," he added after a pause.

"Cats?" she asked, raising her eyebrow up, "You gave me cat drugs?"

"It got you winded down—" Rick said back offhandedly, and his eyes found hers again, "You were practically purring in sleep last night."

She snorted out, "You're full of bullshit, Rick Grimes."

"It got you winded down," Rick only repeated, and silenced the guilt inside him—that little voice inside his mind telling him he should've protected her—that he was failing again another woman he loved—a part of him knew it wasn't his fault—he was trying his best—he _knew_ yet another part just—didn't feel it. _Sometimes I just can't feel it_, he recalled Amanda's words.

In his sudden silence, Amanda watched as Carl stopped in the street, seeing Enid out of her porch. Both of them stopped seeing each other, exchanged a few words, then Enid climbed down and joined at Carl. "Well, something good's coming out of this at least," she remarked with a low voice, and leaned down against his side, looping her hand through his arm for support as Carl and Enid started walking toward their house, "We're getting bonded by blood, tears, and sweat."

By blood, tears, and sweat… Rick watched their retreating backs, and knew what Amanda had said was the truth. It was the truth of the life they'd been fighting for—the foundations on which they were erecting up their new world, where they got to the living. Their home, and it was rising upon their blood, toils, tears and sweat.

He looked at the blood at his fingertips, then turned to Amanda again, "Daryl hasn't returned yet," he told her, his words as plain as ever, but inclinations were not.

Amanda's eyes lifted above and found Beth. "I know. That's why I came out. I need to see her. I _need to_ be with her." She shook her head, "Was she there whole night?"

Rick nodded. "Walkers drew more of them during the night. I saw cracks along the wall. We don't know for sure how long the damaged panel would hold up. We need to drive them away."

Amanda nodded back quickly. "What's the plan?"

"We create a distraction, then I jump down from the wall and make a run for it to get back to the quarry."

Amanda shook her head with the same quickness as she had nodded. "Make a run for it _how_?" she inquired, "Outside the wall is hell. You can't make a run for it. We can't such a distraction." She paused, lifting her head up—then stopped, "Spencer had an idea. He mentioned it yesterday at Deanne's. I—I think we could try it—" she mused out.

He looked at her highly skeptical. Any plan of Spencer Monroe didn't sound to him something they would even consider on it, let alone give it a try. But Amanda said, "Gather everyone at Deanne's. Then we'll discuss it."

# # #

"I'll do it," Spencer said an hour later in Deanne's hall, "You distract them, I make the climb."

Rick shook his head, "Have you ever done such a climb before?" Rick asked back, his words stern and curt. The plan wasn't as bad as he'd assumed, so Rick would never let it Spencer ruin it. The man had recognized they could try to climb out in the air by a wire they would stretch out between the platform and one of the half-burnt houses outside the walls, then dropped down and made a run for it.

The drop-out was still might be problematic—walkers were getting crowded by each minute outside the wall, but it was still better than directly jumping down from the wall. The distraction then would work—it would create an opportunity to clear the scattered walkers ahead of him, and others would assist him from watch-out points. They'd cleared out the prison's yard like this, so Rick would do this. If only he could make the climb himself, too.

That part was going to be problematic as he'd never done such a climb before, as well, and he wasn't sure if the wire they had would support his weight. He calculated almost a quarter of a mile between the burnt house and the wall and even though they managed to throw out a rope with hooks that far away, make a climb on it with hands and legs was going to be—hard, not mention if the rope would hold.

Yet, he had to try it. He shook his head, "No. I'm gonna try it."

But Amanda shook her head too, "No. You're too heavy," she opposed, thinking just like he had, "I saw the rope. It can't support you. We need someone—lighter."

"I'll do it," Michonne suddenly spoke from the left corner, but Amanda shook her head again, turning to her.

"No. You're—too muscled too," she said, "We need someone really skinny—" Her eyes turned to Beth for a second, "Someone's really fast, too. Light and fast. I'd—I'd try it, but you know—"

"I'm doing it," Beth cut her off, "It has to be me."

Quickly, Amanda nodded, but Maggie stood up agitated, "No. Absolutely not! I'll do it."

Beth shook her head as Rick frowned. He wasn't sure what he might feel—what Amanda had said was true—but sending off Beth there— Daryl wouldn't like it, and he'd already hid the truth from Daryl once, and if he let Beth do this now, he wasn't sure how Daryl would take it. "I'm lighter and a lot faster than you, Maggie," Beth told her sister, her voice adamant, "And I survived through a fall from an elevator shaft."

"The wolves still might be them—" Maggie countered, "And walkers—"

"If wolves are there, I'm _gonna_ kill them," Beth said with the same adamant voice, "and walkers—we can use walkers' blood and guts again." Her eyes turned to Rick then, "It has to be me, Rick. It has to."

Because it was Daryl who was out there, and Beth felt she needed to find him. He understood Beth, but he wasn't sure if Daryl would understand. If their positions were reserved, if it was him out there, not Daryl, and Amanda wanted to do this for him—to find him—he wasn't also sure if he would've like it himself, either.

But again—Amanda, if not still slowly bleeding, would've been also their best option, and Rick knew he would've been watching her doing it at the end. He would've hated it—it didn't change the fact that she was better suited for it than him. And they'd been all fighting, making choices… blood, tears, and sweat.

Slowly, Rick nodded. "Okay."

# # #

"I can do this, Amanda," Beth said, standing at the platform, then corrected herself, shaking her head decisively, "I _will_ do it."

"I know," Amanda said, and walked to her for a tight hug, "Just be careful," she whispered at the younger woman, her words breaking, and she felt sobs inside her again. She tightened her arms. She didn't want Beth to go, didn't want her to risk her life like that. It hurt—it hurt so much watching her taking chances with her life, to save their skin… It had to be _her_, she should've done this—Beth was the little sister she'd never had—and if something happened to her—just because Amanda was here because she was bleeding—she knew she could never forgive herself.

Beth took a step her back and looked at her. "You know it has to be me," Beth told her, "I have to find him."

And there was that, too. Amanda nodded, "You will." She smiled at her, her eyes at hers, told her back what she usually told to Daryl, "Come back soon, we'll be waiting."

Beth smiled back at her ruefully and started climbing on the rope as Rick and others started firing.

She wrapped her legs and hands over the rope tightly, and crawled along the rope as fast as she could, her face set in determination, Amanda could see it from where she stood at the platform through the scope of the sniper rifle she sat behind, below them walkers snarled and groaned in oblivion, their attention drawn to the gunshots.

"Be ready—" Rick shouted as Beth stopped just at the roof of the burnt house and jumped at the water drains from the rope then dropped herself down.

Quickly, Amanda took two walkers nearest to her as Beth started running away like a bolt of lightning she was.

# # #

"She's going to come back," Amanda told Maggie and Rick as they stood at the platform, watching outside, each in their own guilt for letting her go, but still enduring, "She will."

Below their feet, walkers growled, snarled, gnarled—threw themselves against the damaged panel a bit heavier—as if sensing its weakness more and more with every second, drawing more and more of their kind… and the metal of the damaged panel groaned louder each time—cracking under the weight…

"We still have to do something," Maggie said then, lowering her eyes below, "If we don't, it might be too late when she comes back."

Rick nodded. "We will," he said, and his eyes turned to Deanne who stood a few feet behind them, "We're going to fight."

# # #

"You want to open the gate?" Heath exclaimed out as they stood in the backyard of the warehouse where Rick had gathered all Alexandria yesterday. "You want us to open the gate and fight?" he elaborated, asking again.

Stiffly, Rick nodded. "The damaged panel is getting hit too heavily. Beth's gonna come back, but we don't know if the panel would hold until then. We—we need to get them distracted and clean out a bit. This is how you do the cleaning," he told them, his voice firm yet slow, "We open half of the gate and let them come in, then close out the gate and clean the incoming. One at a time."

"What if we can't?" Spencer asked, "What if we can't close the gate, and they overrun us?"

Rick shook his head, "If we do this, we create a bottleneck. The damaged panel is a lot wider than the gate. If it falls, we're doomed. We have to control it." He paused, waving his arm back toward the wall and repeated the words he'd told before the dry on, "We have to come for them before they come for us."

It was always that simple. Every moment they waited for that panel collapse, they waited for another disaster happen too. "That panel is going to collapse," so he told them again, "It's not an if again, but a _when_—and we need to decide on when _now_."

Next to him, Amanda spoke too, "If we open the gate, it's gonna be in our terms," she said, "We will hold the gate as long as we can, then we will fall back. Everyone who can't fight will be in the warehouse. We already stashed food and water there to keep us going for days. We put up a perimeter. We dug ditches and put up spikes, we prepared a defense line. We can hold it for a long time, as long as we need to until Beth, Daryl, Abraham and Sasha return and draw the rest of them away." She wandered her eyes on them, "And they will come back but are you going to sit down and wait until bad things happen to us or are you going to _fight_?"

At first, no one from Alexandrians stepped forward, only shared worried and skeptical looks between them, then Carter moved and took a step out, "They're right," he told his fellow townspeople, "I saw how it's outside—and they're right. We have to do this. We have to fight."

Heath nodded then too, "Yeah. Let's do this. It worked—_half_ the last time."

# # #

Amanda walked through the three defense lines for the last preparations, checking out before she moved with the rest of the Alexandria who couldn't fight—too wounded or too old or too young into the warehouse.

All of rest of Alexandria was in front of the gate, all ready to defense their home. Her whole being was resisting the notion of going to the warehouse with others, but she knew she had to. For one thing, someone had to deal the situation there too, and with her bleeding and such she was the best option. Besides, Judith was going to be in the warehouse, too, expectedly, and she didn't want to leave her baby angel alone, either… But still… She had to fight for them—to keep them safe—her family. Rick, Carl, Judith… Beth…

She let out a sigh, her mind going off to Beth—then she saw Deanne, walking to the warehouse slowly.

Deanne was going to come with her too, and it took a great length of talking to convince the older woman not to stand in the third defense line. Deanne had wanted to fight, with a machete in her hands, Deanne Monroe had wanted to fight. Amanda just couldn't let it happen. Alexandria still needed her.

They still needed her, to make Alexandria what it was going to be… and her dream—her vision was going to be true, Amanda believed it more than anytime now—all their sacrifices—all their struggles, their blood, tears, and sweat, it meant more—she didn't know it was civilization or not, but she knew it was something _more_. For now, it was enough for her.

The last of the defense line had the Alexandrians—the first-time fighters, who possibly had any blades or knives yesterday, Carter and Spencer leading them. They were first to fall back if things turned ugly and they lost the gate, the other two lines protecting the retreat. The second line was the experienced fighters from Alexandria, Glenn and Heath taking the lead. The first line was them, Rick holding the whole thing at the head. Her eyes looked for him as he moved around, giving orders before they started doing it—then of course a few feet around him, she found what she was looking for, the familiar sight of dreadlocks—letting out a sigh, Amanda walked to Michonne.

She hated it—she fucking _hated_ it with all of her being—but she knew Michonne was going to be there keeping Rick's back—so they had to have that talk. It was long overdue, and they had to clear off some stuff before Amanda went back into the warehouse and waited for the man who she loved to come back to her again. She had to.

She stopped in front of the katana-wielding woman, "Can we talk for a second?" she asked directly as Rick momentarily stopped and his eyes fell on them. Amanda prepared not to notice.

Michonne nodded, and they moved toward a secluded corner under the platform. Michonne looked at her in silence, "You know I don't like you," Amanda started, keeping the words as simple as possible, and her tone matter of fact, too, "And I know you don't like me, either. And I don't care."

Michonne gave her a sharp look, "I don't understand the point of this conversation, Amanda."

"The point is, Michonne, the point is—" she shook her head, "He's my husband, and I love him more than anything in this world. I wish I could protect him like I'm supposed to, but I can't… so, my point is—" she stopped, and let out another breath again, "I—I saw you yesterday at the gate—you were ready to defend him as he ran from walkers—ready to protect. I want you to continue to do so, Michonne. I want you to hold his back."

She shook her head, "You don't need to ask me that," Michonne told her back, "I was keeping his back long before you were even here."

"I _know_." She rolled her eyes at words, trying to keep her temper at check, "That's why I don't like you, Michonne. I fucking _hate_ seeing you together, knowing that how much you shared. It drives me fucking crazy, but I'm a big girl. We can never be friends, but we can—try to be civil, right?" She paused, "For Rick." She gave the Afro-American woman another look, "I know you still care for him."

She probably _loved_ him, but Amanda couldn't bring herself to mutter out those words to Michonne, but she knew it. She supposed it'd been—hard being that close to Rick and—not love him. He possibly might've driven her crazy, too, but Amanda still knew the other woman loved him. But she'd lost her chance—and they were just going to be civil—as long as Michonne knew that, as well.

Giving her a long look, Michonne nodded tersely and started walking away.

Rick came to find her as soon as she was alone, and gave her a look, "Amanda—"

She cut him off, "Don't worry, Rick, we just had a chat—between girls."

He stared at her, and Amanda started at him back, then finally he nodded. "You should get back to the warehouse. We're starting it in five minutes."

She let out a deep breath and wrapped her arms around his waist. "I wish I could be with you."

He lifted her head up, holding her chin and gave her a look, "You're _always_ with me," he whispered out, "Keep Judith safe."

She nodded, "You know I _will_," she said before she arose on her toes and touched at his lips with hers as his hand dropped from her chin, "I love you," she whispered at him.

"When this all ends, we're going to have a wedding, Amanda," Rick told her back, his voice a rasp, "A proper one. I want to you see in bride's whites—"

She smiled at him, "No—We do it when I'm cleared out—I don't know you, but I'm _not_ spending another wedding night only with sleeping."

He smiled faintly, "No, we _not._"

# # #

Amanda held Judith between her arms tightly as they sat at the ground, slowly rocking her back and forth in her lap as the fighting outside grew louder and louder. Inside the warehouse, though, the only sounds were constant mumbling from prayers where Father Gabriel and his folk sat around in another pray circle and prayed for the salvation.

_ "I will not fear the terror of night,  
nor the arrow that flies by day,  
nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness,  
nor the plague that destroys at midday."_

Father Gabriel muttered, and they repeated, Amanda gave out a bitter smile at the words. It was getting darker, night befalling them too—the plague had destroyed their morning and midday, too.

_" A thousand may fall at my side,_  
ten thousand at my right hand,  
but it will not come near me."

The Father completed the prayer, as the doors suddenly opened, and people from the third line rushed inside. Amanda saw Jessie and his boys, too, covered with blood and dirt, shaking, trembling but still alive. Amanda stood up, hoisting up Judith in her embrace, Deanne following her example.

Carter and Spencer had walked inside the last and started barricading the doors immediately. Rick had ordered them to lock themselves in until they had come back after the first line retreated, they were going to put up the last defense outside the perimeters.

"Walkers breached! They lost the gate!" Someone yelled from backside in the sudden silence, prayers stopping as well, "Oh my god, we're going to die!"

"Stay calm," Amanda shouted, walking toward Spencer and Carter, "We _knew_ it was going to happen. Stay calm!" She looked at the men. "What happened? Beth returned?"

Carter nodded. She felt a weight lifted off her chest. "She came ten minutes ago—drove half of them away—the others stayed—"

She nodded. They also knew a car just couldn't make enough noise to pull the whole herd away. The half was better. They could deal with them. The gate was too narrow—they still could hold them, lead them into the killing ground between the warehouse and perimeters.

Then she heard it—over the fighting noises and shouts, and screams, she heard the deep groan of metal and cracking of woods as something collapsed down.

Her eyes widening, Amanda realized the bell tower had fallen.

# # #

With widened eyes, Rick watched as the bell tower collapsed down…and started shouting as walkers started flooding them from everywhere.

"HOLD THE LINE!" Rick yelled at them, standing at the first line, and twisting aside he shouted at Glenn, "FALL BACK!"

Glenn shaking his head, ran towards them, "GLENN! RETREAT!" His eyes found Heath, and he yelled at the younger man, "RETREAT!"

Heath, understanding, he was at the charge now as Glenn stood with them next to Maggie, shouted as well, "RETREAT!"

Rick saw them running back to warehouse, then ordered at his people, "Circle in—close formation. We protect the retreat first."

Michonne swept her katana around her head in a deadly arc, killing two walkers at the same time as Maggie and Glenn stabbed another two at their left side—Carl shot at another one at his other side with his gun.

They'd done this before—many times. They could do it again. They walkers were swarming the place, but they still could their grounds. He turned aside and saw Heath and his teams running toward the warehouse.

He nodded at his people then, too, "Move on—don't break the line," he ordered again, as they started moving towards the warehouse too, the last defense—they could hold them back there.

They still could. They moved inch and inch, killing as many walkers as possible but it was no good. They were too many, just too many, circling them around—just too much to cut a clean way through.

Soon, their advance stopped, and their backs at the each other, they started fighting where they stood, holding their ground.

"Hold your ground!" Rick yelled desperately as they circled completely by the dead, "Just hold it."

# # #

Hastily, they removed the logs from the door and took the people in. Giving Judith to Deanne, Amanda ran towards to the newcomers. "Is it the bell tower?" she asked breathless, "Has it collapsed?"

Heath nodded.

Her head suddenly turning, she supported herself, bracing her hand on the siding door. "Go climb up," she ordered, tilting her head up towards the windows at the ceiling, "Tell me what's happening."

Hastily, Heath ran to the ladder at the wall and climbed up towards the small window under the ceiling. "They're—they made a circle—they're retreating!"

Letting out a breath of relief, Amanda nodded. "How many walkers?" she asked.

"Too—many…." He stopped, "Just too many…"

Amanda lifted her head, and shouted, "What happens?"

Heath looked down, "I'm sorry—I'm sorry. They—they stopped. They're circled."

The weight at her chest returned at full force, and almost knocked her out. "I—I have to go out—" she muttered, shaking her head, her eyes pricking—She couldn't be here—not all of her family was out there—dying. She had to go…she had to go… She took out her gun—and she turned and looked at Judith as Deanne held it— "Protect her as long as you can," she told the woman before she turned and started walking to the door…then she heard it.

Judith had started crying—her steps faltering, Amanda turned back and looked at her little baby… from Deanne's embrace, she was trying to reach out—trying to reach for her as she realized Amanda was leaving—

She looked at her baby angel—crying for her—her little arm stretched out—for her—looking for her—mother. Amanda rushed at her and took her back in her embrace, wrapping her around her chest tightly, inhaling her deeply. "I'm here, darlin'—" she whispered at her ear, "I'm here…" she buried her head over her little body, and shook her head, "Mommy is here…she won't leave you." Holding her closest her chest, closing her eyes, her head turning, she promised her baby, "_Never_."

_Please, forgive me, my love…_ she whispered inwardly, _please forgive me…_

She couldn't leave Judith—she just couldn't leave her… Rick would've understood. Rick would've wanted her to stay in— "Open the doors," she heard then Deanne's voice.

"Open the doors," she ordered with clear voice, "I'm going out."

"Mother!" Spencer shouted, as Amanda snapped her head up and looked at Deanne.

She'd taken an ax, and held it in front of her, as she stood in front of the doors, like a stature—head defiant, her small figure casting a big shadow in the darkened gloom under the soft light of the lamps—and she looked regent, Amanda would've never thought how someone would look regent, not until she saw Deanne Monroe standing in front of the warehouse door, with an ax in her hands.

"They—They _are_ dying out there for us—" she told her people, stressing the words, "He's always told us we should fight if we don't want to die—" She paused, "But we're here now, and they're out there—_dying_ for us. I told him yesterday he should believe in us—believe in _us_." She shook her head, "This is _not_ the Alexandria I've tried to build." She looked at them, "And I'm _not_ going to leave them alone."

Carter stepped forward, nodding, "She's right. I'm coming, too."

Deanne nodded, and her eyes wandered along her people. Spencer walked to her side and stood as Heath and his teams following, taking out their weapons. Jessie followed, with Ron and Sam, and Enid came as she saw redhead woman who had cried out that they had been dead just a couple of minutes ago. Breathing out, Amanda gave a long kiss at her forehead and gave it to Father Gabriel, muttering, "I'll come back, sweetheart, I _will_…"

But the Father shook his head again, walked towards Deanne, "I've have been praying for a miracle for a long time—and it's been here all along—I just needed to look for it." He took out his knife as he stopped in front of the door.

She gave Judith then the old lady, and took out her gun, and let out a deep breath. "We can do this," she told them then, "We move in close formation—we hold each other's back, don't break the line. We need to cover their backs—then we meet in the middle and sweep them for good."

She looked at them, "Follow my lead," she told them, and looked at Deanne, "Do not fear, and trust each other. We'll get through this."

Deanne raised her arm with the ax, and shouted, "FOR ALEXANDRIA!"

And Amanda watched as every single of them raised their arms and shouted back, "FOR ALEXANDRIA!"

# # #

_How many walkers have you killed?_

The questions had lost its meaning now—he'd lost so many of them now—so many… Rick swung his axe into another dead…so many death… He was surrounded by so many deaths…piled upon each other—a mountain of dead.

_How many people have you killed?_

So, so many—so much that he couldn't even remember their names anymore…

His people were dying now—his family… His eyes skipped to Carl—he—he should've been in the warehouse too, with Judith and Amanda… He should've been there—but Carl had stayed behind—protecting his baby sister—protecting his own family. His little son was becoming a man—he wished Carl had really had his own family one day—had his own children—his own wife…

He wished he could protect him…

He wished he could protect his family…

Amanda and Judith—they still had a change—if they—they managed to kill at least a bit more of those walkers—the perimeters would keep them safe until Daryl or Beth returned once again, they had food and waters…

If only— If only…

"ALEXANDRIA"

The single shout echoed in air, under the darkening sky—then Rick saw it… _them_… All Alexandria was running towards them, their weapons in the air, screaming the battle cries as Deanne ran ahead of them, an axe in her hand, much like the one he was carrying.

All Alexandria…was running toward them—to save them—to fight with them—for them… and Rick couldn't fucking believe it.

They all stopped for a split of second, the same disbelief in every each of them, then Deanne swept her weapon wobbly into an undead for the first time, killing dead and undead for the first time all in her life—and raised her axe in victory and Amanda was next to her, killing as many as walkers she could with her gun, sweeping the ground before they came to direct contact—

Then he saw it happening, two walkers ran toward them, Amanda killed one of them, and turned to the other, but her magazine getting empty, the last shot ran empty. Quickly, she took out her knife and launched forward but Deanne stepped ahead of her—and threw her ax—but another just kept her behind before Amanda could kill her…

Amanda screamed, "Deanne!" but the older woman had already started stumbling down—

# # #

"Deanne-!" Amanda screamed, and pushed the walker ahead of her, and yelled at the others, as Spencer shouted, "Mother!"

"Don't break the line! Don't fucking break the line!"

But she was too late. Spencer had already moved out, rushing to her mother, and yanking her back, and another walker was at his back… Amanda quickly reloaded her gun with her spare magazine and took out the walker before he got Spencer.

They shouldn't have done it—they just shouldn't have broken the line…she'd told them… she had fucking told them… They'd gotten over their heads, all being heroic and stupid…

And stupid got you killed.

God, Deanne was bit.

How they were going to fucking do it without her now?

She shook her head, and ordered again—feeling blood fastening outside of her—but there was nothing she could do anything about it now… She'd accepted it, too.

"Don't fucking break the line—we do it together. Don't get heated up," she warned them before they started moving toward Rick and his group.

# # #

The moon was high in the sky when they stood in front of each other, breathing labored, completely drenched in blood, and many other things, tired beyond belief, limbs shaking… Beneath them, in their battleground, the dead rotten bodies swept the ground, and not her legs finally giving in, she dropped down upon them, her head bowed.

Rick knelt beside her, wrapping his arms around her.

She wanted to cry—because—they were alive.

Not all of them—but they were still alive. Alexandria hadn't fallen tonight.

# # #

"I told you to trust us, Rick," Deanne told them as she laid in the infirmary, "We made it…together."

Rick nodded, "Yes," and his hand held the older woman's as Amanda stayed in silence at the other side of the bed, her head bowed, "You made it possible."

The older woman shook her head, "No, _you_ made it possible. You both did." She looked at them as Amanda lifted her head, "I—I live a long life, followed my dream. It's your turn now. You'll do good. I trust you." She smiled, looking at the window, the sky slowly opening— "A new day's coming—" she muttered out.

She couldn't see it.

Her eyes closed before the dawn broke.

# # #

They started clearing the streets the next day—first their own death.

Rick saw Carter first among the fallen, and the redheaded woman—and Jessie was there, too—fighting for their home.

Blood, sweat, and tears.

As Rick dug their graves, he started to cry.

# # #

Beth stepped through the gate in the deadly silence, looking around—the battle ground.

The walkers were gone.

She'd driven half of them away herself yesterday—but—the rest—the rest—they'd fought themselves.

Abraham whistled out, "Monkey's nuts! Some serious shit gone around here," he mumbled out. Daryl grunted out a committal voice in answer as their—guests stopped, seeing the last situation—Beth had warned them, too, and she also had assured them it was going to be okay.

She had told them they were all going to be okay.

She turned aside, and fixed her gaze at the newcomers, "It's okay—my people—my people must have fought with them," she explained.

Rick and Amanda ushered out of the infirmary, "Daryl!" Rick shouted back, as Amanda ran to her— "Beth!"

"Who are these people?" Rick asked.

"Our first recruits—" Beth then introduced, waving at her hand toward the couple to step forward, "Dwight and Cherry."

"And this black beauty is out there—" Abraham supplied in, waving his hand at the fuel truck outside at their gate, "—is Patty," the ex-soldier told them, "You're gonna love this, Rick."

* * *

_A'right, bet you didn't see it coming, heh :)_

_I always want to play with the idea how things would've been different with her, and I think if Beth was with Daryl when he met with Dwight and Cherry, they wouldn't turn to Sanctuary. To tell the truth, in my opinion, the show handled very badly their final decision to turn back, betraying Daryl. I was planning to write those sections, too, but well, the plans..._

_I'm also finishing this story with the next chapter, in fact, the next chapter is just going to be an epilogue to deal with the aftermath of the Battle of Alexandria, heh, I named it myself. :)_

_It's about time Amanda and Rick be the stars their own story, I think, this is not working anymore. Frankly, I also got another idea with them recently-directly following the end of Coda-completely different, much more canon too, but I'm not sure which story I might start writing first._

_So-well, I guess, soon we'll find out._

_Like always, tell me what you think! Thanks._


	44. Chapter 44

**New Edit: Just put up a poll on my profile. If you're interested which story you'd like me to write after A Better World, please vote! Thanks.**

_So, it happens, feels strange..._

XXXXIV.

* * *

It all felt like a reversed deja-vu. Rick watched the new comers as they wandered slowly, warily like they were expecting threats from every corner in the Deanne's study. In _his_ study, he corrected himself, it was going to be his own study now.

_It's your turn now,_ Deanne has said, just before she'd died. His mind went back to the day the first time he'd been here, the first time he'd sat down in that armchair in front of the camera, gazing suspiciously at the woman in front of him— _You should keep your gates close. It's all about survival now. At any cost._

It'd never been just survival, he could see it clearly now, and getting to the living part was on their shoulders now. Deanne had lightened the torch, and it was their turn to try to build the world Deanne had envisioned—a world they'd all fought and bled for. For all of them. For his family. For Alexandria.

His hand went to piece of paper in his pocket he'd found at Deanne's desk earlier before he turned back to the couple, still pacing through the room. He motioned at the armchair in front of him, "Have a seat," he told them, his voice firm yet soft.

The woman slowly walked to it, and settled, giving the camera Amanda had been fidgeting with a suspicious look as the man, Dwight, stood above her, standing behind. "Is it necessary?" he asked, gesturing at the tripod with his head.

"It's how we do things here," Rick answered just like Deanne had before.

"Beth said—Beth said we could stay—" the woman, Cherry, said, looking at them.

"It's yet to be decided," Rick said back, "But yes—if you're what she thought you are—then yes, you could stay."

"Why do you want to stay?" Amanda asked then, walking around to sit down at the couch beside him, "Beth said you got your own people, but you were running away from them."

Dwight nodded. "Yes. They're—they're—they give you things, keep you safe, and think they own you because of it." He paused for a second, "_He_ thinks he owns you because of it."

"He?" Rick inquired further, recalling what Daryl had said before they'd started with the interview, "Negan?"

Dwight nodded, lowering his head. "He wants you to kneel…"

"Yet you almost returned to him—" Rick countered. They almost had betrayed Daryl, too, pointed a gun at him, and it'd taken only Beth's reassurance and promise to stop them go further with it, listening to her.

"We tried—we tried—" his wife, Cherry, told them, tears in her eyes, her voice breaking, Rick knew they'd tried to save someone but failed. She stopped, letting out a shaking a breath and looked at them again, "But it's hard being out there alone. Beth said we could live with you. She—she said we could find a home with you."

Amanda smiled, sighing out slowly, "And so you're here—" she muttered out.

The woman's answer didn't hesitate, "And so we are."

"Daryl said you first thought he was one of them—" Rick remarked after a pause, "You didn't realize he _wasn't_ living with you at your community," he continued, "How many people are there?"

All in frankness that was the most had bothered him. Before the battle the last populace count was sixty eight people in Alexandria. Whereas Rick didn't know each of them by name, over the three weeks they'd been here they'd grown accustomed. Daryl had said they'd been living with these people for a time, and they hadn't realized Daryl and Beth hadn't been one of them.

And that meant—well, it meant a crowd—a crowd where you could even overlook a person like Daryl Dixon.

And that was souring something in his stomach.

_Trouble._

"We don't know—more than one and fifty, perhaps… but there're other people in the outposts, too—"

"Outposts?" Amanda cut in, frowning.

"Yeah… we thought Daryl and Beth was coming from a near outpost—" Cherry explained, "It's how they do it—" she went on, "When they start—protecting a community, they also start up an outpost, so they could control things. They say it's because they will protect you against the dead, but it's more than that."

"What do they want in return?" he asked, his tone getting hitched, not liking where all this was going.

"Half of everything—" the man gave them a look, "And then you kneel…" He paused, "If they'd ever find this place, it's how it's gonna be… They'll demand you give them half of everything you have, then will ask you kneel."

"And if we refuse?"

"They kill one of you to make an example—brutally…" Dwight paused again, "Never saw it myself—but heard the talks."

Amanda's lips pulled out flatly, her face setting in, "Well, we don't need any protection."

"It don't matter," Cherry said back, "They still make you kneel."

Her lips then parted in a curt smile, "I'd like to see them try."

"Outposts, guns—the other communities—" Rick said then, leaning down slightly, "Where are they? Tell us everything."

If they wanted to be in, they were going to have to earn their keep, but Dwight shook his head. "We don't know. Only Negan's lieutenants know about them. We were just workers—trying to get by. I think—they—have three places, at least—but we don't know where they are."

Three places—three outposts…and one…sanctuary, as they called it. This was getting worse and worse with each minute.

"I—I heard once a colony called Hilltop or something like that—I don't know where but there's this doctor—Tina was seeing him, and I went to him a couple of times too. I—I got PCOS—" Amanda's attention snapped at her, as Rick recognized the abbreviation, Polycystic Ovary Syndrome. Lori used to have it too before she'd gotten pregnant with Carl. "He told me once his brother would've been a much better help as he was a gynecologist but Negan had left him at Hilltop."

"Do you know where it is?" Amanda asked, her face loosening up, a startling energy tilting her voice a tone higher, but the other woman shook her head.

"No—" Her face closing off again, Amanda rested back, "I'm sorry."

Rick stood up, "Beth was looking a place for you," he told them as Amanda turned her head to look outside from the window, "Go find her. We'll talk later."

As they left the study, Amanda turned to him, standing up, "We need to talk with others. They need to know about it."

Rick shook his head. "We tell our people," he said back, "But others…no. We got other problems, and they already had too much. It can wait."

Her face hardened a bit, but she stayed in silence. Rick gave her a look. "Amanda—" he started then, taking a few steps closer to her, "You know we can't look for them, right?" he asked then, because she looked like—he couldn't be certain. She'd wanted to look for the Wolves, and Rick had seen the reason but those people—those people were different, and the way she was when she'd heard about those doctor…

"I know," she bit off, shaking her head.

"Those people ain't like Wolves," he told her what he'd just thought, "It's too dangerous. Wolves—wolves didn't have guns. They were just brutes. Daryl fought with them. He said they got training—"

She nodded again, "I know."

"—And we got other problems," he continued, as if she hadn't interrupted, "We need to get back to the quarry and take those stones, put up proper walls. Half of the pantry is gone too. We need to look for supplies. We need to get back at our feet again."

Her voice raised, "I _know_!" she cried out, and let out a breath, "You don't need to convince me. You don't take any chances anymore," she repeated his words, her eyes running away, "We can't risk it."

He gave her a long look, his gaze searching, and asked feeling the unspoken "but" in her words, "But—?"

She shook her head, "I don't know, okay… I don't know." She shook her head again, and dropped herself down on the couch back, "Maybe I'm just being stupid—but—but—" Sitting next to her in silence, Rick waited her to speak again.

"I don't know—It f-feels like—perhaps we should do it—" she started, struggling with words, "Deanne wanted us to do this—_I_ want us to do this…build something more… A better world—for Carl, for Judith—for our family, for all people who had fought and bled for it last night," she said, "But is this the way—we're just gonna close our eyes and look at the other side?" She shook her head again, "That's what I was doing at Grady, Rick."

"We're not closing our eyes and look at the other side, we're looking at it straight," he shot back, "They got numbers, they got guns… battle hardened soldiers. You heard Daryl. We have to be reasonable."

She gave out another loaded sigh, "Yeah… I know." Her eyes found her again, "It just—it just sometimes feels like—destiny or something…" she muttered out, "Our fate…"

His brows pulling together, leaning down further to see her better, Rick looked at her, "Our fate?"

She exhaled deeply again, "I know… I know it sounds _ridiculous_—but look at this—" she waved her hands in the air, lifting her head up, "Back at the church, when I felt lost how to deal with you, and when you were being just an asshole, I—I used to make fun at Beth, tell her maybe walkers would've just run over the place and we got stranded in the wild, and fell in love in the meantime as we tried to survive—because that was how it'd happened with her and Daryl—and look at us!" she exclaimed, pointing her hand between them, "That's what exactly how it happened with us too! We lost the church, we got stranded at the road, and fell in love. I _knew_ I was falling in love with you that night at the barn, Rick," she confessed, her eyes finding his again, "I knew it."

"I was getting the idea, too," he whispered out.

She shook her head, "And—and everything happened afterwards… The way we found out the quarry—and the dry on—and everything—it _was_ really a blessing, Rick—like we were supposed to be there—and now this… Just the time we got Alexandria back—we learned about those sonabitches out there—just twenty miles away from us—and just yesterday I was saying Beth I need a gynecologist, and now I learned a doctor's out there—I mean—maybe we're supposed to do this, Rick—" She let out another loaded breath, "I don't know."

He turned his head and looked ahead, her words echoing in his mind. Everything she'd said… since the moment they had met, it felt like he was drawn to her—and he had been—there was that thing between them since the beginning, but it wasn't fate. No. They had the same struggles, the same trials…would it just be fate? Something they hadn't struggled with each step but just fell into it…because it was meant to be? No. It was never that easy…but there again… it was also that easy—taking her in his arms—he recalled the way his hand had found his way on her hip in the sleep at the barn—the way how he couldn't keep himself away… and she'd been right, the way they'd found the quarry—and the truck… It was a blessing. Rick had never been of faith—he had never believed in higher powers—divine inventions or God—he'd always believed in himself, just tried to be the man his father would've been proud—be the man his own family needed… "I know what I know," he said then, "We can't risk it."

Nodding, she repeated back, "I know." Lifting her head, she looked around, then pulling her legs to her chest, she rested herself back and wrapped her arms around her knees, "We need to move into here."

Turning aside, Rick stared at her.

# # #

"You moving into here?" Daryl asked, giving the other man a side-look as they stood at the porch's railings. Rick nodded, "Why?"

"Amanda says someone gotta be here… It's _the_ house."

"How about Spencer?" Daryl asked.

"Well, we're gonna have to find him another place then, I guess—I'm not going to share a house with him," the other man grumbled out, then his eyes fell on the house across them—where Sam sat down with Beth at the porch's steps… Beth had been with the boy since they got back.

Daryl felt…well, Daryl didn't know a shit how he felt… he'd gone to see him—but he was always useless dealing with other people's grief—luckily, he got Beth. Daryl watched as she put her arms around Sam's shoulders, pulling at her side as the boy buried his head into her shoulder. Sam had lost her mother and his brother, was an orphan now.

Daryl momentarily thought how things would've been if he didn't have Beth now—what if he should've dealt with Sam alone—what if he should've dealt with Dwight and Cherry alone… They—they had wanted to turn back… they had been ready to betray them—ready to exchange their freedom with their safety… until Beth had talked to them.

_It must be the eyes… those wide, doelike blue eyes… got you suckers every time,_ Daryl recalled Amanda Shepherd's words back in the days… and gave out a snort, shaking his head… "Daryl—" Rick then said, taking a step further in him, and Daryl knew Rick wanted to talk about what had happened earlier.

Leaning down over the railings, he turned his aside and looked at the other, "About what I did back there—" Rick started much like he'd thought, gesturing with his head, "Uh—I know I was being an asshole…but—but I couldn't—do you know?"

Daryl nodded, "I know," he answered as truthfully as he could, "I—I was so mad at you first, man," he told Rick then, "I thought going back… I was about to turn back… Then I thought Beth would want me to go on—finish it, so I kept going."

Rick nodded, "Yeah."

He continued, shaking his head, "Then you sent her out there… I didn't know what had happened—but I knew _something_ happened—and she was there, alone… When I saw her first in the woods, I really wanted to punch you, Rick—right at the face—" He snorted, "A part of me still do—" he confessed.

Rick nodded again, a small faint smile pulling out his lips, "I know," he said, "I'm sorry. But we didn't have any better options, Amanda still bleeding, and she's…she's a fighter as good as any."

Daryl shook his head, "She's more than that… She's tough, but like not Michonne—or Maggie. Amanda saw it since the beginning. She fights her battles in her ways… If she wasn't with me out there, Dwight and Cherry would've left—and now those assholes would've known there's another community they'd come and plunder."

"They still might," Rick pointed out, but Daryl shook his head.

"And we'll be ready if they ever did."

Rick nodded as Daryl went to Beth and Sam.

# # #

"Deanne Monroe's last words were a new day was coming," Rick started at the night inside the church, standing atop of the aisle under the colored glass, "and she died believing in it—she died—knowing she'd built something—" He looked at the people seated in front of him, his people— "We built something—all of us… We fought for it, we bled for it, we suffered it, we built it with our blood, tears and sweat, and all those people we lost… they gave their lives for it."

"I know you're still afraid," Rick continued, stepping one foot ahead the other, "The world out there is still insane—it still a hard place, and I know you still ask yourself what then? What happens now?" He looked at them, wandering his eyes around, his gaze caught at Amanda at the front seat, Judith at her lap, Carl next to him, his family— He fished out the little note he'd found at Deanne's office from his pocket, "I—I found this at Deanne's desk this morning. _Death's certain, life is not. _Deanne Monroe believed that. Walkers—they're still out there, they always will try to slip through life—always will try to slip our walls. But this world—" He shook his head, "This world doesn't belong to them. We're _still_ here—" His voice raising, he leaned down, raising his arm, and his eyes finding Amanda, he repeated the words he'd told her at the night they'd made their baby, decided to bring another life into this world… "And we are NOT going anywhere! Deanne Monroe had a dream, a dream deeply rooted in those exact words… _death's certain, life is not._ And as long as there's life, there's also hope—" He stepped down from the aisle, and started walking around them, "I'm not saying it's gonna be easy. Because it's gonna hard, harder than you think, harder you can imagine. But we'll have it, a better world, if not for ourselves, but for our children and their own children…_and their children—" _He paused, "This's what happens now."

# # #

Beth put Sam into the bed in the garage, and standing up, she let out a sigh. "Poor thing—" she told him, holding on his arm, "He just lost all of his family."

Daryl nodded, then looked down at the boy… _Death's certain, life is not…_ Rick words turned in his mind, _and we'll have it, a better world, if not for ourselves, but for our children, and their own children…_ and Daryl remembered the intersection, how scared he was—then he knew, he just knew it.

This was the life. And he couldn't have wanted it in any other way.

Better or worse, more or less.

He turned to Beth, "Beth," he called out at her, his word firm yet soft, certain and earnest, "Will you marry me?"

Her eyes widened for a second, those wide, blue, doelike blue eyes shining as she stared at him, and then she smiled—she laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck, burying her head against his shoulder, "I thought you're never gonna ask," she said, laughing… silly, breathless little laughs chiming in the air, "I'm p-paralyzed with happiness."

Daryl gave out a small laugh, too, "Is that a yes?"

She pulled back an inch and titling her head, look at him, "That's a definite yes, Mr. Dixon," she said, "I'd marry you hundreds times."

"One time is enough—" he said back, leaning down in a kiss.

# # #

Judith in Rick's arms, Amanda stepped in the Deanne and Reg Monroe's house—now their own house—her own house, and with the first step she put inside, she realized it was going to be something more than she had presumed first—not just holding the house because someone had to, because it was _the_ house. No, for the first time she had known herself Amanda was having a _home_, the family she'd always wanted—but had never thought she could've had.

Bowing her head, she smiled, as Carl closed the door behind them.

The silence greeted them inside—for the first time for a long time, too, the usual clamor of having people always around missing…and it was strange, so strange…them doing this…it was more than strange… maybe it was really fate… and some bored entity or something out there above had thrown a dice in the air and they had ended up like this… then Rick held her hand, and smiled back at her, small but sincere, and Amanda realized she didn't fucking care, either, not as long as they were together.

The only missing part in their life now was another baby—a little baby sister or brother to Judith and Carl, and like Rick had said as long as there was life, there was still hope.

She could always believe that.

Always.

* * *

_So we're here... the end. For now._  
_Thank you reading, sticking around until the end._  
_Some many bad things happened, but I wanted to finish on a hopeful note, because as long as there's life, there's still hope, right? I also tried to bring things into a full circle, as much as I could, especially "I'm p-paralyzed with happiness" was added just because for that reason, as it was one of the reasons why I'd started writing this story back in November, because I just envisioned Beth saying it to Daryl, so Beth had to say it again._  
_I also wanted to forward both couples into a new life further, Amanda finally having a real home all to herself, with the family she'd always wanted, and Beth starting her own too, and getting Sam too..._

_I'm still continuing to write the rest of their stories, but with starting all new. The next story is gonna be called "A Better World", and I'm gonna adapt my own version of Negan plot._  
_Again, thank you reading so far, even if I'm probably the most fickle writer around here, having no control over my own story, so thank you! I hope you at least enjoyed reading it as half as I enjoyed writing it! :) __Thank you for all reviews, favorites, and alerts, and other stuff. Love you bunches!_  
_Cheers._


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